


A Startling Text

by LibertyKingdom



Category: Knight Rider (1982)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-19 06:09:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 33
Words: 33,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9421946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibertyKingdom/pseuds/LibertyKingdom
Summary: When Garthe kidnaps Bonnie Barstow will Michael and Kitt be able to save her?





	1. The Terrible Text

Text: Garthe Knight: I will not be stopped. Not even by a stop sign. One day you will be mine Bonnie. 

Bonnie read the text and recoiled. She pulled her legs to her chest and she stared at the message for a good twenty minutes.... trying not to sob. Tears flocked to the corners of her eyes as she considered the heaviness and seriousness of the threat. She knew that he couldn't be stopped and she didn't want to try and stop him. After all, trying to stop him has nearly cost her her life, Michael's life, Devon's, and even Kitt's. The last time she confronted him, things did not end well. She ended up in the hospital with Devon and Kitt was nearly completely lost. She could bare the threat to herself more so than her family. 

The brunette tried to figure out if she should show Michael or not. She soon decided against it, knowing that Michael would go after Garthe and that one of them could die. She'd rather not show him.

Bonnie didn't want to loose her new husband... not now. Not when she was pregnant and very very vulnerable and scared.

Garthe was dangerous, violent, deceptive, and cunning. All of which, made her fear the credibility of his threats. When Garthe said he'd do something, he usually he made good on it. He could kill and not think anything of it. It was as if, killing humans for him, was as simple as killing flies or gnats. The more suffering Garthe observed the happier he seemed to become. 

Hearing the sound of footsteps approaching, Bonnie quickly wiped the tears from her eyes and she stuffed the phone under her pillow and turned to face the unexpected company.

"Michael? Is that you?" Bonnie nervously stammered. In the back of her mind rose a frightening thought.... what if the visitor wasn't Michael.... what if it was Garthe? She swallowed sharply and reached for a smooth silver revolver.


	2. A Brush With Death: A Close Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A noise startles Bonnie. Will it come at a great price?

No answer came to her question and fear snaked through her every vein causing her to bite back a violent shudder. Memories of Garthe's last attack on her flashed through her mind and her breathing became more frantic and erratic. Slipping a bullet into the revolver she shakily raised the gun towards the door of the bedroom.

Don't come in here.... don't come in here. If you are Michael... say or do something to announce yourself. Please. I'm too frightened right now.... and I... I really don't want to have to shoot someone. She inwardly told herself.

The door handle jimmied with a gasp worthy and unsettling metallic jingle. Bonnie eased up onto her unsteady knees and pointed the gun straight for the door. Biting her lip she managed to coil her pointer-finger in front of the trigger. 

One..... two.... three... she counted silently, praying, hoping, wishing for some kind distraction to keep the unannounced person from entering the room. Time it's self seemed to be traveling in super slow motion and she felt as though she'd suddenly be sick. Biting her lip she knew what had to be done.

The door cracked open and BOOOMMMMMM, the trigger was snatched and the bullet sailed towards the intended victim. Bonnie squeezed her eyes shut, not wishing to see any gore that could possibly result from her split-second decision. 

A blur of color dropped to the floor hands over it's head. 

Instinctively, Bonnie dropped the hot revolver beside her on the bed, her hands shaking too much to maintain it's grasp on the weapon. 

Everything went eerily silent for a moment and Bonnie swallowed sharply. She couldn't force her eyes open for fear that there would be a deep stain of satin seeping into the pristine apartment's carpet. If a heart could explode hers just might have in that very moment. Her fingers clenched around the fabric hugging her sides.


	3. Revelation:

Blue eyes of the unannounced visitor peered at the wall where the bullet had lodged. The bullet had missed his head by about three inches. But his mind couldn't remain on the close call because Bonnie was sobbing fearfully on the bed. 

Instinctively, Michael stumbled across the room and his arms drew Bonnie into his chest. "Bonnie? Whats the matter? What happened? Are you hurt?" He rapidly questioned her. His fingers slowly messaged through her hair.

He knew that Garthe had tried to kill her, not more than a few months ago, and when he did he nearly succeeded. Bonnie still hadn't shaken the scars from her detainment. She had been in Garthe's company for nearly four weeks before Michael, Kitt, and Devon had been able to rescue her. Michael could understand her instinctive reactions, he too experienced them when as Michael Long he had been shot and nearly killed. But seeing this kind of reaction from Bonnie scared him. She was generally the calm one... the one whose responses always seemed to be patient and logical. 

"I... I... I'm fine now that you are here," Bonnie confessed with a sob as she buried her head into Michael's sturdy arm. She tried to make herself stop shaking and trembling but it was just too difficult. 

"I'm... I'm sorry. I... I.... I... nearly shot you...." she remorsefully blubbered, breathing into his chest and submersing herself in his overwhelming comfort. 

Michael calmly breathed, "I know... I know Bons. It's okay. You missed me. See, I'm still here," he calmly murmured into her ear. 

Kitt beeped in on the com-link, "Michael? Is everything okay? I heard a gunshot. Is Bonnie okay?" The swooshing of his scanner could be heard through the connection; to an extent, Bonnie found this comforting.

"Everything is fine, Kitt. It's all under control. She is shaken but very much alive. But do me a favor would, yah buddy? Keep your scanner's peeled," Michael replied. 

"Sure thing, Michael," Kitt gently replied.

Michael's attention returned to Bonnie and her strange over-reaction to his early return home. 

"Now Bonnie, look at me. When I came in here... you thought I was someone else. Who did you think I was and why did you take a shot at me? What has you so scared? You know you can tell me,' the curly haired F.L.A.G. agent prompted, the concern apparent in his voice. He had to know what had shaken his new wife so badly.


	4. Fearful Confessions Or Dangerous Denials

"Mich...Michael... I.... I..." Bonnie started before cutting herself off. Her gaze averted nervously. Being pregnant made trying to recapture her breath nearly impossible and it made speaking all the more difficult.

"Breathe.... Bons, it's okay. I'm here now,' Michael stated rubbing soothing circles on Bonnie's shoulders. 

She didn't want to tell him about Garthe's harassment because she was afraid that Michael would go after him and possibly die in the pursuit. The brunette mechanic needed him to be alive and safe because she couldn't raise the baby on her own. And right now, she just didn't feel strong enough to even mention Garthe's name.

'Michael... can.... can we talk about it later. I... I think... pre...pregnancy is... is getting to me," Bonnie wearily mumbled. She wanted to buy herself some time- at least enough time to figure out what she should say to Michael about the constant text threats she was receiving. 

'Su...sure Bons," Michael cooed. He didn't want to pressure her since she was clearly upset. The ex-cop turned F.L.A.G. agent gently pulled Bonnie down onto the bed beside him and he further drew her close to his chest. He did his best to comfort her into a nice, calm, and peaceful rest. 

Both Michael and Bonnie drifted off to sleep. 

When suddenly, Bonnie's phone began to vibrate behind their pillows. 

But who would be ringing at three in the morning? Was it another threat?


	5. Awaiting Answers? Or the Arrival of More Questions:

Michael and Bonnie both, rattled from their sleep, reached for the phone at the same time. A panicked expression crossed over Bonnie's face and she shouted, "No.... I'll answer it!" 

Her tone startled and unnerved Michael but he backed off. He dismissed it as being part of her pregnancy or mood swings of the temporarily adopted persona. 

Bonnie flipped onto her side and shielded the screen of her phone from Michael. Reading the text her expression soured. 

Text From Garthe Knight to Miss Barstow: You and your son will be mine. Don't underestimate me, Bonnie. Michael is a living, breathing insult to my existence and he will not be granted access to our child. Don't come to me, I promise I'll come to you. 

Bonnie let out a gasp and quickly deleted the message. Her hands began to shake violently as she rolled over again to face Michael. She couldn't hide the tears in her eyes. 

Michael's much larger hand came to rest upon Bonnie's pale cheek and he rubbed her softly. He soothingly inquired, "Bon? Honey? You don't look well. Who text you?"

"Oh, it... it was a... a wrong number," she fibbed flatly. 

"Did you text them that they were messaging the wrong number? Or do you want me to do that?" Michael sweetly offered. 

"I... I already did..." she breathed softly. 

"Can.... can you not ask so many questions?" The brunette huffed , having grown tired to his prompting. It was causing her to grow more and more on edge.

"Sure. Sorry sweetheart," the curly haired man apologized. 

Then with a soft tone he suggested, "why don't we go back to sleep? Hmm? Turn off your phone and get some rest. You need your strength."

Bonnie nodded her head slowly up and down in agreement. Turning her phone off she slid beneath the covers and tucked herself in close to Michael.

How long should she keep the threats a secret? How long would Garthe keep taunting her before he'd make good on his threat? Would he show up that morning? That evening? Next week? What did he want to do with her child and what in the world did he want with her? Bonnie couldn't put her mind to rest as easily as it seemed Michael could.


	6. The Powerful Grasp Of Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ((trigger warning: reference to sexual assault/ rape))

Bonnie woke with a fright several more times that night, though Michael slept beside her peacefully. She decided to wiggle out his welcome embrace to quietly reflect on the threatening text... and to reread the words that had caused her nightmares. 

Grabbing her phone and getting out of the bed, Bonnie walked into the apartment's small kitchen. She turned it on again. She jumped as it suddenly came to life vibrating in her hand again. A bright red screen with a white envelope appeared announcing that she had four unread texts since she had turned it off. Her finger immediately slipped to click the read button. She kind of wanted to know what more Garthe had to say. 

Garthe Knight to Miss Barstow 11:15 pm: I'm waiting and watching over you. You will never know when or where I will make you mine, but you will be mine. Michael won't be able to save you or to keep you from me.

Garthe Knight To Miss Barstow Midnight: I'm coming for you and my baby. You never know when or where I may strike. I know where you live and I know the company you keep. You'll never be free because the baby deserves a father like me.

Garthe Knight to Miss Barstow 1:10 am: Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock Every waking moment I learn to hate Michael Knight more for trying to snake his way into my child's life. You shall pay and he will most definately meet my wrath and his death for his offense. 

Garthe Knight to Miss Barstow 2:39 am: Look behind the bushes, look in your dresser, your semi. Look up and down the streets... look everywhere you go but you'll never spot me. I'm coming for you and my child. 

Bonnie felt like she wanted to vomit reading each further threat. The same message came through each time... he was coming for not only her, but the baby as well. 

Clicking out of the messages did nothing to quell the worry raising inside of her.

Then. as if the baby could sense it's mother's distress, it began to flip around in her womb. She placed the phone down on the table and walked into the living-room.

The bile rose in her throat and with the stress and pressure of the threats rising, she took a seat on the floor. Within moments, she finally threw-up. She knew the child wasn't Michael's. It was Garthe's. He had abused her during her captivity, but Michael had stepped up to the challenge. He loved her enough to marry her while she was pregnant with his sworn enemy's child and to claim responsibility for the child. And yes, there were nights where Michael stayed up all night to comfort her when the nightmares became too much for her to handle. He was really one of the biggest blessings Bonnie could have ever asked for.

Now, with the additional threats, the nightmares were slowly taking on a mammoth size and life of their own. 

Michael, having heard Bonnie throwing up, groggily emerged from their room. His eyes widened in fear as he saw the phone on the table and then his wife on the floor. His distress deepened as he noticed how visibly she was shaking.

"Bons? Are you alright?" He sweetly questioned, picking her off of the ground with a ginger hand. "Are you sick? Come, I'll take you to the hospital or the doctors if you are feeling sick," he breathed in suggestion.

"I...I... I'm fine," Bonnie quietly murmured, though she truly felt everything but okay.

"Come on. I'll clean this up after I get you back to bed. I'll make a quick call and i'll rejoin you," he gently offered.

By this time, Bonnie was so sick... so tired.... and so worried, she didn't remember- or maybe, she didn't care to remember that she had left her phone in the other room and it was left on. 

What will happen? Will Michael discover Bonnie's secret? Or will Bonnie continue to live alone in fear?


	7. The Bombshell

Michael did as he promised, his mind reeling with a thousand terrible concerns surrounding Bonnie's health, barely noticed the vibrating of Bonnie's cell phone as another message was being transmitted through.

Speaking lowly into his com-link, Michael contacted Kitt. 

"Kitt, buddy? I need you to scan Bonnie's vitals. I think something could be wrong with her or the baby... or both. When you finish your diagnosis, I'd like you to call for a doctor... just in case. Y'ha know," Michael gently implored of his co-worker.

"Right away, Michael," Kitt answered obediently. His vibrant red scanners swooshing from side to side as he set about watching over her. 

"Michael? Bonnie's heart-rate and blood pressure are unusually high for her. Did something spook or frighten Bonnie? Because it would explain the observations I am making." Kitt returned. His voice flooded with concern for both the mother and the child. 

"Do you think it's the nightmares?" Michael questioned, his blue eyes widening in concern. 

Kitt thought about the question for a good moment, before answering. 'I don't think so Michael. It mirrors the reactions we've observed during and after her nightmares but this one seems more intense."

A brief pause transpired between the two before Kitt once more spoke, "has Bonnie been acting strangely the past few days?" 

"Now that you mentioned it, she has. Bon's been getting all kinds of messages on her phone. She won't talk to me about them. But she seems upset every time she put the phone down. She wouldn't let me answer it when it rang this morning..." Michael recanted.

Then with a determined look Michael scanned the room for her phone. He spotted it earlier but where? And as if by cue, it began to vibrate with another message. This time, Michael crossed the room and picked it up in his hands.

"Time to see what has been bothering our Bonnie," the curly haired agent mumbled under his breath. 

Who were the messages from? Why was someone texting Bonnie so frequently at 4 am? What did the messages say? Why was Bonnie getting more scared every time she looked at the phone? And what in the world was she concealing?

Michael gasped as he opened the first message:

Garthe Knight to Miss Barstow 4:29 am: You will be mine. 

He opened the second one....

Garthe Knight to Miss Barstow 4:55: I am the father of your child. You will not escape me

Michael fought back the urge to curse. No wonder Bonnie reacted so violently to the messages. "Kitt, Garthe is harassing Bonnie. Is there a way to block his number?" Michael questioned in severe concern. 

"I'm sorry Michael. I can't hone in on his signal."

Dark-brown brows creased in concern upon Michael's forehead accompanied by a dangerously stormy glower. His blue eyes burned with a fire that could not be easily snuffed out. "We've got to stop him. He is going to hurt our Bonnie... and the child, who I already love. Bonnie's child might not be my flesh and blood.... but I do claim it as my child! Garthe can't have it!"

The phone vibrated in Michael's hand again. He checked the message with an air of extreme disgust taking over all of his physical features. 

Garthe Knight to Miss Barstow: Tick-tock, Tick-tock. You will be mine.

Michael grimaced and let out a pestered growl. He shut the phone off and he breathed into his com-link. "Buddy, if you could, keep your scanners peeled. If I know Garthe... half-as-well as I think I do, he will try to make good on it. We need to protect our Bonnie her unborn child," Michael remarked.

"Absolutely, Michael," came Kitt's confident reply. 

Michael returned to the bedroom and he gently laid down the bed. He molded his body around the slumbering figure of his pregnant wife. His arm draped protectively over her shoulders and chest. He was torn between confronting Bonnie and secretly dealing with the threat. But the one thing that was non-debatable was that Garthe had to be stopped and he had to be stopped sooner rather than later. But how? He'd let this issue consume his thoughts until he could no longer keep his eyes open.


	8. Confrontation? Or Secretive Operation? The Hard Choice:

Bonnie spent the morning bent over a porcelain throne in the bathroom, throwing up. Her forehead pressed against the cold material of the tank. Her stomach hurt more than it had during the first several months and she could scarcely stand the smell of the breakfast Michael was cooking for the both of them.

When she was finally able to clean herself up with some cold water, Bonnie joined Michael in the kitchen. The bags under her eyes becoming extremely apparent as the light in the kitchen found her face. Quietly she started, "Mi... Michael, I... I'm sorry...sorry about last night. I..." she cut off half way through the sentence, suddenly at a loss for words. 

Turning with the whisk still in his hands, Michael did his best to give her a smile. He knew she was worried and because she looked so frail, he decided not to bring up the text at that moment. Instead he covertly stated, "Hi Bons, darling. Did you get any sleep? By the way the doctor is coming over to check on you. I was so worried about you last night. You feeling any better." 

Bonnie's tired and red-tinted, blue-green eyes studied Michael nervously for a moment. She knew Michael could read through any lie she tell him, but out of concern for him, she answered calmly. "I'm... I'm okay, but I... I won't eat anything. I.. I'm sorry Michael. I know you went through a lot of trouble to make breakfast and everything. I... I just can't eat. And to answer your other questions.... I slept fine once I threw-up last night thanks to your help. And I'm feeling okay..." she added. 

"Did you get any sleep with me bothering you so frequently?" She meekly quizzed.

"I got some sleep, don't you worry. I'm used to not getting much sleep anyhow," Michael soothingly replied.

He sat down next to her with his breakfast now laid on a plate and he casually began to eat. 

"So.... do you want to talk about what has been bothering you?" Michael abruptly prompted in a soft tone. He didn't want to tell her he knew about Garthe's messages without giving her a chance to come clean about it. Michael couldn't really blame her, she was terrified and he figured he'd be just as frightened, if not more so if he had been in Bonnie's shoes. 

Bonnie contemplated an answer for a moment. Should she tell him? What would she tell him? What if Michael thought she as being silly about the threats? What if he took it too seriously and he went after Garthe? What if she lost him? Or worse.... what if Garthe used him to get to her and the baby? All the questions popping through her mind made her even more nauseous.


	9. Confession or More Concealing?

"I.... I've just gotten a few messages..." Bonnie delicately replied. She wasn't overly willing to share too much information about the situation. "I'm okay. Words... are just words... right?" Bonnie added as a form of justification of her false sense of bravado. 

"What kind of messages?" He further pried, wanting her to come forward and to share her deepest fears with him. "And it's alright to be afraid of words if someone threatening you." Getting up from his seat, he stood up and took Bonnie's arms in his. Quietly and gently he questioned, "is someone threatening you, Bons?" 

Bonnie's expression soured and her eyes nervously averted away from Michael. For the first time she missed having her phone within her grasp. Ignoring his inquiry, Bonnie exclaimed, "wh...where is my phone? Michael, have you seen my phone?" 

His loving grasp refused to let her move away from him as he repeated,"Bons, is someone threatening you? Please, tell me what is bothering you." His voice was wrought with concern and a desperation that Bonnie had scarcely heard before.

Clicking her tongue on the roof of her mouth she shakily puffed, "my phone. I'm ge....getting messages.... on... on my phone."

"Who is sending the messages?" Michael asked, his tone quiet but seething.

"N...no...no one. Forget it. I don't want to talk...talk about it any more..." she stammered unsteadily, no longer interested in taking Michael's baited lines any longer. 

'Bonnie, I have a confession to make...." He let out an exaggerated sigh before continuing, "I know about the messages from Garthe. I'm sorry sweetheart but you've had me soooo worried. Listen I only checked the phone because I love you... I'll understand if you can't forgive me right away," Michael continued, finally cracking.

Bonnie sat in stunned silence, her blue-green eyes watering as she considered everything Michael was saying. He betrayed her trust. But hadn't she done the same by concealing the messages from him? Was it good or bad that he knew? What should she say? Should she even speak at all? Trembling fingers moved to rub her forehead and her lips mumbled as if she were speaking incomprehensible words to herself. She was torn between protecting Michael from Garthe and getting the protection she needed and desired for herself and the child. But what would Bonnie choose? If, in fact, she had any choice at all.


	10. The Plot Thickens

The tension and silence was interrupted by the humming of a vibrating phone. Both Bonnie and Michael reached for the phone at the same time. Bonnie pulled it in much faster than he could, so she read it out loud.

Garthe Knight to Miss Barstow: I'm coming for you. NOTHING WILL STOP ME!! I will cut down Michael Knight and he will not survive. And I will make a hood ornament out of your precious Kitt.

She shuddered violently as she finished reading it. The threats were gaining in intensity and the longer she stared at it the sicker and more fearful she felt. Bonnie let out a staggering sigh and she began to sob.

Michael wasted no time and he pulled her into his arms. "Bons, Bons, don't worry. I'm here and I'm not going to leave your side. Garthe will not kill me, he will not be turning Kitt into any kind of a hood ornament, and he absolutely will never get within fifty feet of you or this child....our child." As he spoke, particularly about Bonnie's precious cargo, his hands traced over her swollen stomach.

Bonnie wanted to believe Michael's words and offer of absolute protection but there was a lingering caress of doubt remaining in her mind. But she didn't want to appear to undermine her new husband so she did her best to wipe away the lingering tears and to appear un-shaken by the current and previous threats.

"Bons, Kitt and I have to go to work.... but I want you to stay here. Don't let anyone in and I want to check in on you every other hour. If Garthe text any more, I want you to forward them to me. If he calls, don't pick up. And I want you to promise that you won't leave the house for anything," Michael instructed with a loving and very earnest tone.

Bonnie understood the instructions and it wasn't like a pregnant woman would be running about on long shopping trips, not when her ankles and feet were swollen. She wouldn't be able to run from a threat if one was presented so she didn't mind staying home and working on improvements to Kitt's functions and the safety programming for the Foundation.

"You know I hate leaving you, Bons. But Devon did say this case was urgent," Michael begrudgingly added, kissing her on her forehead and then once on the lips.

Then with a smile he added, "take care of my baby, will yah?"

"I will, Michael. And Michael? Do me a favor, be careful with Kitt and don't take any unnecessary risks... please," Bonnie breathed with a desperate longing. She didn't want him to leave her when she felt so vulnerable. But as a F.L.A.G. agent she understood that the Foundation has a duty to protect those in more danger than she herself was in. That is why she could not and would not stop him.

"You got it Bons. After all, I have a wife and un-born baby to return to. And I promise, so long as my lungs draw air, I will not abandon you,' Michael replied, stealing one last kiss.

Not even ten minutes after Michael left, her phone vibrated to life. Licking her lips she hesitated to read the new message. She knew who it was from but she wasn't sure she cared to read why he was sending messages.

Eventually her curiosity drove her to open the text and what she saw next made her blood turn as cold as a slippery impenetrable sheet of ice.


	11. Not Just Words On A Screen Anymore

Bonnie had waited ten minutes before she could actually bring her eyes to focus on each typed word of the message.

Garthe Knight to Miss Barstow: When the man of the house is away Garthe will always get his way. You are in my sights.

Just as she finished reading the message, the glass slider closing off the balcony of their apartment shattered with an unholy and frightful roar of twinkling glass. 

Bonnie slowly rose to her feet and she did her best to transmit a message over her com-link to Michael, "Michael....so....some...someone... someone just broke in to our house," she cried hysterically. Her feet moving as fast as they could to find a hiding spot. If only she hadn't been pregnant she might have been able to move much faster. 

Rushing around the kitchen corner to get into the bedroom Bonnie felt an abrupt but solid "thump". The brunette mechanic let out an "umph" as she stumbled backwards at the force of the impact.

Her eyes lifted fearfully to behold a slender, tall, and muscular man. His eyes full of dangerous Arctic frost and romance-less pale blue but, behind the unsettling color, lay a sparking sheen of raging fire. One that could be perceived as a threat just by gazing into them. His expression, though hardened, read with an air of sophisticated amusement.

One word departed the anxious and terrorized woman's lips, "G...Garthe..." Her entire body trembled with an intensity that could have, to an untrained eye appeared to have been a minor seizure. 

His cruel fingers coiled like snakes around her arms as he drew her to himself like a Venus flytrap sucks in it's prey. 

"So we meet again, Miss Barstow," Garthe leered with a false soothing tone. 

Bonnie adamantly retorted, "Mrs. Barstow-Knight... to you..." Her tone was curt, sharp, and direct like an expertly handled blade slices through meat.

"Knight?" Garthe scoffed, with a sore tone. His grasp tightening with a tremendous pressure around her arms. 

"You, are just as unfit as Michael is, to carry the name of the man I called father! You are nothing more than a street-rat and I will take great delight in breaking you," He sharply accused. Lava seemed to spray from his lips as he spoke. 

"Garthe... just leave. You go now and I won't tell anyone that you came to visit," Bonnie prompted, as best she could. She knew Michael and Kitt most likely caught her transmission and that they'd be on their way over. She was only trying to buy herself some time.

"Barstow? Do you take me for a moron?!" He shouted, his anger highly inflamed. 

'N...n..no..' Bonnie stammered, whimpering under the intense pressure being put on her arm. 

"Do you think I enjoy your games?!" He questioned forcefully.

Bonnie didn't answer, instead she struggled to regain her freedom. 

This seemed to infuriate the curly haired man and he demanded, "answer the question, Barstow!"

The brunette considered giving him the truth, but then concern for her unborn child won over. Nervously she replied, "n...no..."

Shaking her he continued ranting, "then why do you continue to play with me?! Hmmm? I'm not just a chess piece and I sure as hell am not an idiot! That is why you and my child are coming with me."

"Garthe please...." the brunette panted in desperation... hoping that her tearful plea could prevent him from taking her away from Michael, Kitt, the Foundation, and her new home.

"Don't Garthe me!" He snapped violently as he began to pull her out of the house and onto the balcony. 

Bonnie shakily and bravely stated, "Michael and Kitt can track Goliath with no trouble. You should know that by now.'

Garthe let out a great but vicious laugh. "That is the thing Barstow, I didn't come with Goliath. No. I'm not that stupid. I have a much better ride this time. Have a look for yourself..." His hand moved to clasp the back of her neck and he forced her to peer over the balcony. 

Bonnie let out a gasp of disbelief and she felt the blood in her veins freeze. "It...it can't be...."

"Oh it can be and it is. Ohhhh it is," Garthe breathed gruffly in her ear.


	12. Enter the Dark Horse

Turbines roared at Garthe's beckoning and the swoosh of a scanner could be heard from their location on the balcony. Instead of a loving red color, it shone a dangerous shade of orange. 

"I believe you've met Karr before," Garthe proudly proclaimed, as he stripped the com-link from Bonnie's wrist. He crushed it under his boots. "Where we are going you won't need that," he hissed darkly. 

Bonnie ignored his comment and less than stellar introduction of his new accomplice, as she was hoisted over Garthe's sturdy shoulder and carried down the steps of the apartment she shared with her husband. Without her com-link she'd be pretty much on her own with two of the Foundation's greatest enemies. Not exactly the company any pregnant woman would desire to be surrounded by. 

"Open the door," Garthe grunted in command. 

She was only lowered back onto the ground for a moment as Karr's door popped open and Garthe thrust her into the passenger seat. The mechanical door shut before Bonnie regained her composure enough to try an escape. The baby wiggled about furiously in her stomach as she fought with the unmoving trans-am's door. She turned to the eject button and the moment she pressed her finger down upon it, she was shocked with an intense jilt of electricity. 

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Miss Barstow" crooned a smooth but dark tone, as green lights lit up Karr's voice modulator.

She instinctively drew her injured hand to her chest.

Garthe laughed as he clambered into the diver's seat. "Bonnie, don't be so naive. You think I'd honestly let you and my child escape that easily?" He questioned.

Then without giving her time to answer he laughingly continued, "Michael, the inferior kitt, and the Foundation will be destroyed and you and our child will help me.

"No... no I won't. You are delusional if you think I'd ever help you and Karr to destroy my home and.... and my family," Bonnie hotly retorted. Defiance flowing through every part of her figure as she replied. Never in her life had she felt so repulsed by a scheming man and a car.

After a few moments of silence, Garthe inquired, "the baby is mine. So tell me, is it a boy or a girl?" 

Bonnie stared out the window as distance was put between them and her apartment, tears hollowly sparkling within her blue-green eyes. 

"Boy or girl, Barstow?" Garthe impatiently demanded. 

"I've asked you a question! Have you grown mute?" He seethed, when Bonnie refused to answer.

Karr interjected, "it is a boy if my scans are correct." 

Bonnie crossed her arms protectively over her stomach and then she dug her nails into the soft flesh of her own arms She nervously sank down in Karr's seat, wishing she had never let Michael and Kitt go to work that morning. 

"A boy," Garthe chirped happily. This time the smile he shot in the mechanic's direction was genuine and sincere. He allowed Karr to assume control of the driving as he turned to face Bonnie. He wiggled his hand under her barred arms until it rested upon the baby bump. "To think this will be the first of many we will have together.... and it will be a son..." he continued reveling in what he assumed was the best news on earth. He clearly ignored the tears and mascara streaking down Bonnie's increasingly pale face. 

"Your wrong," Bonnie sharply swallowed.

"What did you just say?!" Garthe demanded fiercely. 

More timidly Bonnie replied, "I said, you are wrong. This is the first, last, and only child of yours that I will bring into the world. But it's a shame your son will never know you as his father. Michael Knight will be listed on the birth certificate as the father..... not you. He'll never be yours..." 

Garthe's hand moved from her stomach and he struck her across the face in complete rage. His hand left a tender red mark across her cheek. His eyes glowing with a ferocious heat as he added, "Michael will never be known as my child's father! NEVER! You got that? You say his name one more time and I will ..." in his fury he squeezed his fingers around the soft tissue of her neck, "kill you and the baby." 

Bonnie began to choke on heart wrenching sobs and her face began to turn a vibrant shade of red. Her breathing went from severely erratic to slow and super shallow. She began to feel as though she'd pass out and her lungs began to burn. Dark lashes moved to cover her shimmering eyes. 

"Garthe, Miss Barstow might really die if you continue to use that kind of pressure on her. We need her alive remember," Karr anxiously stated. 

Letting out a disgusted huff he released Bonnie from his choke hold and he returned to the task of driving too angry to even hazard a glance at the gasping mechanic. 

Bonnie likewise, was too afraid to look in Garthe's direction. Instead she took to memorizing the scenery that passed by her window, landmarks, unusual qualities, and anything else that could identify the location. She'd have to know where they were taking her if she was ever going to be able to get herself some help. 

But without a com-link would help come? Would Kitt and Michael be able to find her without it? Would Kitt and Michael know about Karr and Garthe teaming up? Better yet, would Kitt and Michael stand a chance against Karr and Garthe? What was Garthe planning? And what would it take to stop them?


	13. Too Late? Enter the Knight

********* In the mean time- back at the apartment **********

"Come on Buddy, we have to get to Bonnie. I don't like the panic I heard in her voice. Kitt, what if it was Garthe? What if he was making good on his threats?" Michael pondered aloud. 

"Shall we use Super Pursuit Mode, Michael?" Kitt questioned, his tone flooded with concern. 

"You better believe it," Michael replied. 

Less then ten minutes later they were at the apartment, the tires screeching to a halt.

Michael rushed up the balcony stairs, his face growing paler by the minute. "Bonnie? Bonnie?!" His voice rang with absolute worry. 

"Michael? The balcony slider is broken," Kitt remarked in observation. 

Michael noticed that the glass was shattered inward, a sign of someone breaking in and not breaking out fo the house. Under his boot crunched debris and his eyes dropped downwards to inspect it just as Kitt interjected in alarm, I've lost all signal to Bonnie's com-link... and... I'm not scanning anyone inside the building....."

"I... I... found her com-link, or what is left of it anyways" Michael harshly swallowed. 

Two beeps rang over Michael's com-link as he disappeared into the apartment. "Michael? Bonnie's phone is laying on the floor between the kitchen and the bedroom..." Kitt stated.

"Thanks, Pal," Michael breathed as he rushed to pick up the phone that seemed as if it were haphazardly dropped and not lovingly placed on the floor.

The curly haired FLAG agent skimmed through the texting records and when his eyes fell upon the latest message from Garthe he felt anger and vomit rising from the pit of his stomach.

Garthe Knight to Miss Barstow: When the man of the house is away Garthe will always get his way. You are in my sights.

His expression dampened into a disapproving and dangerously livid one.

"Garthe" he pointedly snarled. His eyes of blue melting into a furnace of eternal hell-fire as he spoke. His mighty jaw clenched and his teeth ground one against the other. Veins denoting anger rose in the corners of his forehead and his facial structure. 

"Kitt, I think Garthe has our Bonnie and the baby. The question is where? And what is he doing with them?" 

"Kitt? Check the security cameras," Michael fiercely commanded. 

"Right away, Michael," the sleek black trans-am replied.

A pause transpired between the pair as Kitt sifted through video footage surrounding the time they had recieved Bonnie's terrified transmission.

"Michael? You aren't going to believe this," Kitt stated, with the swooshing of his scanner.

"What is it, Buddy?" The ex-cop fearfully asked.

"Garthe was here...." Kitt started.

With an annoyed roll of the eyes Michael replied, "I figured that already, pal. Tell me something I don't already know." 

"I was getting to that," Kitt politely interjected, before explaining "he wasn't alone."

"Again, tell me something I don't know... it was Goliath..." Michael impatiently fumed.

"If you be so kind to let me finish," the slightly agitated AI started before adding, "it was not Goliath...." 

"Who or what was it?!" Michael demanded, running a hand roughly through his curls.

"It appears to be KARR... not Goliath," Kitt patiently answered. 

Michael's face nearly turned green at the news. "What do you mean, Kitt? Karr is destroyed or for all intense purposes dead..." came his incredulous reply. 

"That is what I thought but if you come down here, I have video footage that says otherwise," Kitt returned.

Michael slipped Bonnie's cellphone into his pocket and he took one last look around the apartment. He cursed himself for leaving her alone to take a case for work. If he rescued Bonnie again, he'd be sure to never let work come between them again. 

He raced down the stairs and immediately rushed over to Kitt, who had already popped open the door for him. He quickly sank down behind the wheel.

"Let's see the footage," Michael commanded with an exasperated puff. His eyes widened greatly when they locked upon a black t-top, very identical to Kitt with exception of a haunting orange scanner.

"That is impossible!" He hissed through a series of clenched teeth. Michael's fingers coiled around Kitt's steering wheel with a frightened and unforgivably tight grasp. 

"Impossible or not, Garthe has Bonnie, the baby, and Karr. Heaven only knows what he wants with the three of them," Kitt added. 

"He keeps saying he will destroy FLAG from the inside out. No doubt he will try to use them against us...." Michael growled ill-temperedly. Then in a hauntingly remorseful tone he continued, "I have....I have no doubt that he will kill Bonnie or the baby if they do not do as he wishes. And if I know Bonnie, which I believe I do, she will not be willing to help Garthe fulfill his despicable plots. Her refusal just might get her and possibly our baby killed."

Kitt contemplated everything Michael was saying, his red scanner swooshed slowly from side to side. Worry seeped into his circuits at Michael's last remark. Eventually, he spoke up, "Michael, might I suggest we find and stop Garthe before he can hurt Bonnie and or the baby?"

"Yes, Pal. Let's do whatever we can to save my wife and unborn son," Michael repeated. He felt as though his entire world was falling apart. Kitt's support certainly helped Michael from crumbling under the weight of heavy despair. He could not lose a second wife... as he did Stevie... the night of their wedding. Michael refused to lose Bonnie to the man who so brutally assaulted her and who had endangered the Foundation on more than one occasion.

Michael called Devon and had a four-points bulletin released alerting all law enforcement officials about the threats of Garthe Knight and Karr. Garthe Knight was a name already well-known to the police because he had frequently been in and out of the jails and correctional facilities. It helped to know that they'd be on the look out and alert the Foundation if and when he'd be spotted. It was only a matter of time before Michael and Kitt would be hot on their trail. Or would they? Could they even hope for such a thing?


	14. Unwilling Prisoner

Bonnie's arms still coiled protectively over her swollen stomach. Her heart felt heavy like a weighted crystal vase... and just as fragile too. If there was a way she could save her son from Garthe's cruelty, she was sure she'd take it... even if it meant losing her own life.

Inwardly the brunette vowed, "my son, stay within me and I will protect you with all my might and power. I will not let him touch or harm you."

Garthe's hand found it's way back to her stomach and his gaze returned to her. "I knew you'd carry my son, Barstow..." he laughingly added. "Might I add you carry him well?"

His attempts to sooth her after his brutal choking attempt only made her squirm in the uncomfortable seat.

Garthe's hand then lifted, his fingers clasped coldly upon her feminine jaw and he sharply forced her gaze to meet his. "You will look at me when I speak to you! Do you understand?" He demanded.

A shimmer of tears swept across the mechanic's tired blue-green eyes and still she refused to answer him. Bonnie swallowed sharply, knowing her silence would stoke his already raging temper and she prepared for another strike to the face.

The strike to the face did not come and she relaxed some in the seat. Instead, Garthe gave full command of the driving to Karr. He leaned over in his seat and keeping his fingers of one hand coiled tightly against her jaw, he used his other hand to gingerly sweep through her brunette locks. His gentility would not last however, his second hand's fingers coiled tightly into her hair ready to assume command of his prisoner. His pale blue and gun-metal grey eyes seemed to fixate upon her with the same amount of sentiment as they had the night he had assaulted her.

Bonnie attempted to turn her head away as he drew his face closer to hers. His fingers tugged her by her hair, commanding her gaze return to his. She could feel knots forming within her gut and the baby shift about restlessly inside of her.

Garthe smiled as his powerful hands were able to control, once more, the otherwise strong mechanic. He brought his lips roughly and hotly to hers. "Mhmmm, Miss Barstow... I do believe pregnant women kiss much better...." he breathed against her lips before he kissed her again.

At this undesired move, all of Bonnie's attempts to stay calm faltered and she lifted her arms in an attempt to push him away. A low and threatening growl emerged from the bowls of her sore and bruised throat. When his lips left her's she hissed, "do not touch me again or you will pull back a stump!" Her chest was heaving heavily with the great thrashing of her heart and lungs against her ribcages.

"I'm a pregnant and married woman, Garthe. See these rings on my finger?" She prompted lifting her hand to display the beautiful diamond rings Michael had given her.

Garthe's hand released her dark strands of hair and jaw only to seize her ring carrying hand. Bonnie formed a fist so that he could not take her husband's generous gifts. This caused Garthe to smash her hand repeatedly against the dashboard with great force until her fingers would uncoil.

Bonnie let out a gasp as her knuckles and fist were harshly knocked against Karr's heavy-duty dashboard. She could feel bruises starting to form and with a gasp her finger's uncoiled as she struggled to pull her arm away from him.

He was much stronger than Bonnie was and his cold fingers ripped her wedding rings from her ring finger and he stuck them into his pants.

"GIVE THEM BACK!! THOSE ARE MINE FROM MY HUSBAND AND YOU CAN NOT KEEP THEM!!!" She shouted lividly, nearly forgetting the great peril that would come from contesting Garthe's actions and words.

"What did you just say?" He snapped violently, his face taking on a redness associated with great anger.

"I said.... you will give me... my rings back if you want me to even consider helping you," the brunette more sheepishly retorted.

He growled viciously and shot her a look of severe disapproval, his hands hovering threateningly over her swollen figure. Menacingly he added, "I will not give them back and you will help me. It is a good thing you are with child or I would surely kill you for your incredibly stupid defiance. Tread lightly, Barstow." He cautioned, his eyes shifting to watch the road that stretched out endlessly ahead of them.

Bonnie grumbled under her breath, correcting him for what seemed to be the hundredth time on this journey. "It's Mrs. Barstow-Knight to you."

Garthe's ears burned with her constant reminder and without any forewarning, he reached over and struck her again. "I told you that you do not deserve to bare the name of Knight. If you call yourself Miss. Barstow-Knight again I will not be so merciful with you. Do you understand?!" He seethed venomously, his harsh fingers pulling on her hair with enough force to snap her head backwards till her eyes were directed at Karr's roof. He watched her throat's nervous bobbing movements as he continued to force her to hold the position. The cruel man was imagining how many ways he could inflict pain upon the stubborn but beautiful FLAG mechanic.

Bonnie didn't regret reminding him that she had a husband, a husband whose wrath should be feared by Garthe, even when her head was forced harshly backwards. She thought about answering him with a curt "no" but she soon dismissed that course of action, knowing her child depended on her ability to stay alive. To his question, Bonnie only let out a low sigh.

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME? NO, SILENCE IS NOT AN ACCEPTABLE ANSWER!!" Garthe shouted after giving her a good five minutes to answer.

Bonnie groaned as his grasp yanked her head backwards tighter. "Y.....ye....yes....yes....ju....jus....just st...stop...th...this!"

With a dark tone Garthe added, "I am glad we understand each other, Miss Barstow." His hands pushed her head forwards and released their grasp on her hair.

With his shove forward, her head struck the dashboard and the light of day seemed to dwindle and disappear under a haze of darkness.

"I see you have deactivated, Miss Barstow, was she malfunctioning?" Karr crooned questioningly in amusement.

"You could say that," Garthe heavily grunted, settling in his seat and giving the black trans-am instructions to their new hide out.

"I believe she is going to have a headache when she awakens," Karr added, scanning Bonnie's body.

A smile twitched across Garthe's otherwise frustrated facial features and with an edge of delight he added, "I'm counting on it. Besides, she won't be able to direct Michael or Kitt to our hideout. I plan on keeping her until she gives me... my son.... maybe even longer."

"Master, you do realize that she is only two or three months along now?" Karr questioned with an air of concern.

Garthe blankly stared ahead and replied, "I remember what day it was when I helped her form our son. I don't need reminded of how long it has been. I don't care how long I have to keep her for. We'll keep moving every so often so that every time Michael and his inferior vehicle get close.... they'll find nothing but cold trails. Eventually, they will have no other choice but to believe she has either turned against them or that she has died by my hand. "

Karr suggested, "we could kill one of your pathetic guards and make it look like Bonnie was murdered at the very first location we take her to. I just need a sample of her blood to be able to match the idiotic guard's blood-type with hers."

Garthe took out a knife and then taking Bonnie's hand he made a small slicing movement against her calloused but well cared for palm. He then forced some of the scarlet liquid to ooze out of her wound and onto a test slider. Then Garthe allowed Karr to open his analyzing compartment to accept the sample.

"It is O positive," Karr announced after a few moments.

"O positive? Hmmm? Find me one of my damn guards that can match her blood type and we'll use him as a distraction for Michael and Kitt. That way they will know that I am not in a game playing mood," Garthe darkly commanded. His mind reeled with the great and marvelous expectations of getting what he wanted and depriving Michael of the family he had come to love and accept as his own. He wanted to cause Michael to feel the most incredible pain and to make him suffer so greatly that it would kill him.

Night was beginning to cast long veils of darkness across the long deserted roads. Karr's scanner peeled excitedly from side to side, his tires spinning in tireless speeding circles. His speedometer indicated that he was traveling at speeds over 100 mps.

The lights of a well-known Californian city twinkled like a trillion fallen stars upon the darkening horizon behind the advanced vehicle. Dust kicked up in the tires wakes as if to caress the city goodnight and to bid it farewell.

Bonnie shifted positions every so often and sobbed in her sleep, which caused Garthe to grow agitated and restless. Removing a bottle of chloroform from his pocket he dampened a handkerchief with the liquid and then slipped it over her nose and mouth. Any wriggling, sounds, and movements Bonnie had been making ceased as she settled into a deeper realm of induced sleep.

Throughout the night Garthe continued to check the rear-view mirror to see if he was being followed. That was, after all, the thing he was the most concerned about at the moment.

Karr spoke up some time after three in the morning, "Master we are approaching the hide out. Do you want to select another course of action or are you perfectly satisfied with the one we have in place now?"

"Continue with our original plan, Karr. I am too tired to come up with another one. Besides we should really stop before Bonnie has trouble with my child. It isn't healthy to have a pregnant woman in a car for too long. Would you stimulate all of her nerves to make sure that my son will not experience any difficulties?" Garthe questioned looking over at Bonnie's still limp form.

"As you wish," Karr willingly replied.

He sent a low current through Bonnie's body, which caused her muscles and body to jilt around for a few moments before settling back down.

"It is probably better if we allow a good day and a half's rest between moves, that is, while we still have the option and luxury to delay actions," Karr recommended as he pulled up the winding driveway of well hidden desert hideout. A dimly lit mansion rose from the darkness, which was indeed a rare sight in the middle of nowhere.

Garthe let out a sigh of relief having made it to safety.... or had they? Did Michael and Kitt figure out the whereabouts while Karr had been driving? Was he going to be able to keep Bonnie for the remainder of her pregnancy? Or would her "so-called- husband" come to her rescue?


	15. Picking Up The Pieces: The Search for Bonnie

A crackle interrupted the radio transmissions being played over Kitt's monitors. "A black T-top trans-am fitting the description of KARR on the four points bulletin was last seen by patrols about three hours ago. The vehicle was heading out of the city due west. Our patrol thought nothing of it at the time and so we lost track of it.... it could have gone down any of forty-seven routes to another destination. They could be headed into the deserts of Nevada or they could be headed towards Mexico.. but they could also be headed elsewhere to a private airport of sorts. Sorry, this is the best information we have," the officer reported.

"Thank you very much officers, your help is appreciated," Michael breathed. Even if their information had not given them an exact or specific location, it gave them small leads. If they were able to discover the places where Garthe Knight had properties... then they could and would narrow down the best choices. Michael's experience as an investigative cop helped him in moments like this. He could narrow down the leads and with Kitt's help, the two could be a virtually unstoppable rescue team.

"Kitt, draw me up a list of all Garthe Knight's acquaintances and properties in the areas of the Nevada dessert and the Mexican desert. Narrow the list down by the properties by proximity to any private airports," Michael ordered. His hands drumming nervously and anxiously against the wheel.

"Right away, Michael. Might I ask, why we are searching for places near private airports? Bonnie is pregnant, wouldn't it be uncomfortable for her to be crammed in a tiny plane?" Kitt quizzed.

"Kitt? I don't think Garthe is worried about making Bonnie comfortable so long as he can have his... I mean.... my son," Michael sadly replied.

Kitt's screens continued to flash and sort through hoards of information, attempting to find the most pertinent information he could. Kitt knew Michael's assessment of Garthe's inability to experience things like compassion and empathy would hold true, even around a pregnant woman.

"Have anything for me, yet, Pal?" Michael asked after several moment of silence passed between them. He was impatient, worried, and growing tired of not being able to pin-point where Garthe had taken his pregnant wife.

Patiently, Kitt answered, "I'm working on it. My CPU can only process information so fast. Besides, interfacing with some of the advanced computers in possession of the information we desire, isn't easy. I'm sorry, Michael."

"Yeah, yeah, just keep working on it please...." Michael begged, waving his hand through the air dismissively.

The curly haired F.L.A.G. agent closed his eyes trying to believe that his wife and unborn child would be returned to him safely. It was difficult to imagine that F.L.A.G.'s most brutal enemy, would be gentle and loving with the mechanic responsible for foiling his plans on several times before. Michael doubted that her treatment would be any better than it had been when Garthe brutalized and victimized her.

Garthe had Bonnie so scared that it took Michael two weeks to convince her to accept a hug from him. It took her even longer to accept his offer of marriage and the protection for her and the son Garthe had so cruelly pressed upon her. Michael loved her and whatever Garthe did to hurt her, in turn, hurt him. Michael would make Garthe pay dearly for everything he ever did to his family.

His thoughts of revenge, turned to holding Bonnie tightly against his sturdy chest, letting his hands smooth over and massage her slightly swollen belly. He could hold her there in his protection and safety for the rest of eternity if she'd let him. Michael wanted to kiss Bonnie and to reassure her that nothing bad would ever happen to her again.

In that moment, he began to feel guilty. He promised Bonnie that he'd protect her from any and all harm and yet, Garthe had gotten to her. He vowed silently that if he ever got her back, he would stay with her for the remainder of her pregnancy and for as long as she needed to stay home and care for the infant. He'd hover protectively around her until she was well enough to return to work. Even then he'd insist on keeping her and his son close. He could not risk any more of F.L.A.G.'s or his enemies getting ahold of his family.

"Michael? We may have a problem. Garthe might have anticipated our researching his records. He has private planes and mansions both near the Nevada dessert and the Mexican boarder. What do you suppose we do now?" Kitt broke the silence.

Michael sat up, his blue eyes widening in alarm and surprise. "Ahhhhh! What do you mean he has private airports and mansions near both Nevada and Mexico?" He questioned.

"Have a look for yourself, Michael," Kitt answered.

Michael's gaze intently studied the screen and he slapped both sides of the pilot wheel in frustration. "Alright, let's check the Nevada ones first. I think he might go back to his comfort-zone before leaving the country." He cringed slightly as he spoke, knowing that he could be wrong about Garthe's movements. He hated knowing that Bonnie and the baby's lives both depended on his ability to think faster than the man who could pass for his twin.

"Plot a course for his Nevada dessert mansion. I don't care how long it takes us to get there. Just get there!" Michael demanded.

"Which mansion do you think he'd take her to? There are several scattered around the dessert, some in Wilton's name, some in Elizabeth's, and he has a good number of friends with mansions around Nevada. There are six mansions, four of them are near private air ports..... then there is one near Reno and the other one is near Las Vegas." Kitt remarked.

Michael's head quirked to the side thoughtfully, his thick brunette brows furrowing upon his forehead as he contemplated the many courses of actions that were presented to him.

"Well, first I say, we cross the mansions near Reno and Las Vegas off the list. I think it is safe to assume that Garthe would be avoiding major cities," Michael assessed.

Kitt's scanner slowly swooshed from side to side and he prompted, "what makes you say that, Michael?"

Sitting forward the curly-haired ex-cop replied, "if I know Garthe, he is running scared. He knows we're coming after him. He probably also figured that we'd put out an search alert to all figures of authority within every major city and town around his family's mansions. He'd be afraid that within ten minutes of entering a major city, his whereabouts would be discovered and he'd be headed right back to jail. The mansions in more desolate areas... might provide him with a false sense of security. I'm hoping that false sense of security will bring Karr and Garthe both down. "

"Good thinking, Michael. Should we start with the closest or the furthest mansion first?" Kitt pondered aloud.

This question presented more of a problem for Michael. He wasn't sure he knew which one to search first. A part of him wanted to say search the closest ones first. While another part of him feared, that perhaps, Garthe thought that the closest ones would arouse the most suspicion. If Garthe thought that the closest ones would be raided first, he'd have Bonnie hidden at the furthest mansion possible. But what if Garthe wasn't thinking? What if he hadn't organized his thoughts and by searching the furthest first he put Bonnie and the baby in danger? Could he live with himself by making this decision? What if he was wrong about Nevada.... what if they were in Mexico? He swallowed harshly and replied. "We'll start with the closest one first then we will figure out a plan of action accordingly...." Michael finally but reluctantly answered.

"Sounds like a good enough start to me," Kitt answered.

Michael let out a staggering sigh and breathed, "it's not good enough unless we find our Bonnie alive, well, still healthy, and still with child."

Kitt silently agreed. He was very fond of his mechanic, who very much served as perhaps his closest friend, besides Michael and Devon of course. She understood him in a way that even his constant partner couldn't. But he couldn't allow himself to worry as well. Besides, Michael was doing enough of that for the both of them.

Michael's blue eyes fixated on the world just beyond the front dashboard and windshield. His brows remained furrowed with concern as he peered into the settling darkness.

What would they find at the first mansion? Would their beloved mechanic be there? Or had Garthe already smuggled her out of the country? Or had he already killed Bonnie and the baby? Would he kill a pregnant woman carrying his own child? Garthe has killed his own men before...... was that an indicator how he'd treat Bonnie? He sure hoped not.


	16. The Calm Between Storms

Karr came to a halt in front of the grand entrance of the mansion. His orange scanner quickly checking the security of the premises before he allowed Garthe to get out and unlock the door. The lights had been left on, just dimly, by his mother who frequented the location with her own conquests. But his mother had recently started traveling abroad, leaving him with access to any and all of Wilton Knights, her own, and their friend's mansions. All of the mansions, with exception of the one his father had given to Devon Miles and the Foundation For Law and Government.

"Karr, keep a look out for any intrusions. Any sign of Michael Knight or Kitt within a four-hundred mile radius and we're leaving this mansion and going to a different location. I don't care what time of the day or night it is. I know he'll start looking for the one's closest to private airports. That should buy us some time. Truthfully, I want to wait at least a week before I get her onto a plane for Mexico or even Cuba. Right now, going to the private airports would make us an easy target. I do plan to whisk her out of the States as soon as I can. Without her papers and proper legal verification she won't be able to get back home. Therefore she and my son will be mine," Garthe remarked, with a small prideful chuckle. He was very much impressed by his own brilliant plan.

"As you wish, my Master. I will keep watch. If you should wish me to secure private passage out of the country, I'd be more than happy to look into it for you," Karr answered. If he could have laughed along with his fearless leader, he might have.

"I'd like that. You are turning out to be quite a help. I'm beginning to like you. We should remain partners. I see us going so very far together, " Garthe answered.

Garthe quickly moved himself to the black T-Top's open door to retrieve the limp and slumbering figure of the brunette. He cradled her mercifully in his arms as he carried her over the mansion's threshold, like most men do their wives on their wedding night. Only most men were married to the woman they carried and their bride was usually without child; not that there was anything wrong with a pregnant bride.

He slowly ascended the stairs, being careful not to wake the woman. While she was without a doubt his enemy, her belly held his prize, his pride, and his soon to be joy. He wanted his son to be healthy and strong and therefore he had to keep Miss Barstow in suitable condition. Garthe didn't exactly want to relinquish his authority over the beautiful woman either. He wanted her to nurse his child until he was able to care for it himself. This meant he'd have to let his captive sleep and eat regularly.

Garthe kicked open the door of the master bed room and crossed the room with a hasty stride. As gingerly as he possibly could, he lowered her slightly swollen figure onto the bed and removed his hands and arms from around her.

Bonnie let out a low moan as her body coiled into the fetal position. Garthe flinched and hovered over her still slumbering figure. He feared that he had awoken her from the induced slumber. When he was certain she was still sound asleep, he drew out a thick and heavy comforter and he draped it over her. The strong and muscular man lifted her head of brunette hair and pushed a fluffy pillow under it. Garthe then pulled out a pillow of his own and he laid down beside her. His arms drew her slumbering figure tightly to his chest. He was going to be sure that she could not escape him while he shut his eyes for a bit of rest as well. His chiseled cheek covered with the stubble of facial hair came to rest over her smoother and smaller one.

"Mhmm, you look so beautiful carrying my son, Miss Barstow. I will make you mine whether you want to be or not. We'll be spending a lot of time together," Garthe hotly breathed in her ear. He liked having control of others, especially the strong-willed F.L.A.G. mechanic. He let a smug smirk appear on his face, knowing that he held his fiercest rival and enemy Michael Knight's wife in his arms without a fight. To spite Bonnie's husband, he pressed his lips to her cheek and gave her a quick peck.

He knew in the morning the brunette would probably be sicker than a dog and that she'd probably fight him, but still he relished the moment. Then thinking about their last time together he realized she'd probably try to sneak away and make an escape. Reaching into the dresser behind the bed he pulled out a set of handcuffs. He slapped one side of the cuffs around her closest wrist and then he slapped the other side onto his own opposite wrist, linking them together, just in case his hold wasn't enough to keep hold of her.

The rest of the night would pass peacefully, or would it? Would Michael and Kitt close in unseen or unnoticed? Would Bonnie wake up and try to fight him as he slept beside her? Would Karr betray him and turn him into the local authorities? Garthe's mind swept full of worries but he still allowed himself to sink into the comfort of sleep.


	17. The Restless Knight

The night had been long and the ride had passed fairly uneventfully. The morning sun was slowly highlighting the otherwise dark horizon.

Endless clouds of desert dust swept over the road and around the features of the slick black Tran's Am. Kitt's red scanner continuously peeled from side to side.

Michael slowly stirred from a light doze. He had been too worried to surrender fully to rest. His blue-eyes tiredly opened and adjusted to the dawn of a new day.

"Kitt, buddy, how close are we to the first mansion?" Michael lowly grumbled.

"Oh good, you are awake. Might I suggest, you get something to eat from your small emergency pack? You'll need all the energy you can get if we are going to help Bonnie. And to answer your question, we're five minutes away," Kitt answered.

Michael begrudgingly rummaged through the emergency over-night sacks, which had things like fresh clothes, medical supplies, and food. He quickly and absentmindedly began to nibble a protein bar, the pieces seemed to clog in his throat. The curly-haired agent nearly choking on the contents before he gulped down a few swallows of water.

His anxiety mounted the closer they drew to the first mansion and he found himself clutching the wheel so tightly that his knuckles began to turn white.

 

Kitt's screeching wheels came to a halt outside of the large and ornate mansion.

"Scan the place, pal. I want to know of any sign that Bonnie was or is in there," Michael gruffly commanded.

Everything fell silent a moment as Kitt's red scanner swooshed back and forth intently.

"Michael? From my readings, no one has been here in months. but there is one section of the mansion I can't scan, it's a steel enforced room. Do you think she could be in there?" Kitt questioned intensely concerned about his favorite mechanic.

Michael contemplated his pal's question with a stern expression written upon his haggard and truly exhausted face. Finally he spoke up, "she could be. I might as well check it out while we are here....." His blue eyes studied the mansion and he tried to dismiss the twisting sensation he felt in his guts. Something was amiss.... but what? He couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.

Stepping out of Kitt's cabin, he sized up the mansion of the Foundation's most feared enemies. Puffing out his chest bravely he marched his way right up to the front door, he drop kicked the heavy wooden double panels sealing the main entrance. They both splintered down with a mighty thud and the slender FLAG agent pushed past the doorway. He quickly found his way down to the dark basement finding cobwebs and dust marking his path.

 

His dark brown brow quirked slightly as he had Kitt crack open the steel container by pressing his com-link up against the heavy door.

 

Michael sucked in a huge gulp of air, praying desperately that his beloved wife was not kept within such an inhuman cage without air. A foul stench of stale air waifed into his face as the door popped open in his direction. He braced his arms in a fighting stance and instinctively edged his way to the threshold of the compartment. He used the method that had been taught to him at the police and military academies, slowly and steadily he spun into the room. It was the best way to prepare for the unknown. His blue eyes took a moment to adjust to the eerie darkness that lingered within the confined space.

 

"Bon? Bon?" Are you here, Sweetheart?" Michael called out, as he ambled his way deeper into the room.

 

A sudden stirring noise nearly caused him to jump out of his skin as he approached. "Bonnie?" He cried hopefully, reaching into his pocket for his set of handy matches. Lighting one he peered about the room.

 

From the shadows emerged a quick footed creature causing Michael to let out a shout of surprise. "OHHH!" Just as the match burned out, the Flag agent saw a severely emaciated cat lunged forward at his boots.

 

Michael sucked in another gulp of air, trying desperately to calm his already frazzled nerves. A beeping sound denoted Kitt's dispatch, which from the inside of the steel lined room came out too garbled for Michael to understand. Moving out of the room and back out of the mansion, he returned the call.

 

"What is it, Kitt?" Michael asked.

 

Kitt patiently replied, "I heard you scream. Is everything okay?"

 

"A cat spooked me. That is all," the Flag agent grumbled in reply.

 

"Any sign of Bonnie?" Kitt further prompted.

 

Michael let out an exasperated sigh before returning, "no.... no. Not yet." There was a pain radiating through his vocal tone.

 

The tired and frustrated man sank back into Kitt's comfortable driver's side seat. He ran his hands through his already disheveled curls.

 

"Where do we go next?" Kitt questioned after giving Michael a few moments of silence.

Pursing his lips, Michael wracked his brain. "The next closest one. Look Kitt, I don't care if we have to check every mansion in the United States to find her and I don't care how long it takes. She is my pregnant wife and life just wouldn't be the same without her." He closed the door, revealing tears of frustration shimmering across his calm blue eyes.

 

"Michael, you are tired. Why don't you sleep while I drive to the next mansion? You'll be of no help to Bonnie or your child if you deprive yourself of food, water, and sleep. I'll wake you if anything comes in from Devon or when we get there, which ever comes first." Kitt boldly suggested.

 

"You're right, pal" Michael begrudgingly gave in. His mind was troubled with every possible way in which Garthe could hurt his beloved family. But his eyes were so heavy and strained that sleep easily overwhelmed him.

 

The sun was rising higher into the sky and the earth below was growing hotter and hotter.

All the while Michael slept, Kitt wondered if they would find Bonnie dead or alive. He worried that his partner wouldn't survive the loss of the unborn child or his wife. Kitt truly didn't want to see his family crumbling and fading away. He needed them and more importantly, he'd do everything in his power to save them.


	18. A Rude Awakening and What Follows After

In the meantime, Bonnie stirred awake in the arms of her assailant and kidnapper. Her eyes widened in alarm and panic. Instinctively, the brunette tried to pull away from him. This was easier said then done because she didn't want to wake the slumbering man.

Her progress was abruptly cut short as she felt something pull her arm and body straight back to him. She let out a disapproving grunt as she realized their wrists were handcuffed together. The pregnant mechanic swallowed the bile that was raising inside her mouth. Morning sickness and waking up next to the man she hated with all of her being, was not exactly Bonnie's idea of an ideal morning.

Frantically Bonnie pled, "Gar....Garthe.... re.....release me or.....or.... you won't....won't like what I do...." Her free hand messaged her slightly swollen tummy in circles knowing she couldn't keep it in much longer.

Garthe groaned and grumpily sat up. Instead of releasing her wrist from the handcuffs, he scooped her into his arms and carried her into the bathroom. Wrapping his strong arms around her waist he held her over the toilette.

Bonnie spent the next few hours kneeling in Garthe's lap with her head pressed close to the porcelain throne trying to expel every ounce of bitter tasting, stomach churning sickness.

The man's grip over her was tight, much too tight to afford Bonnie any comfort. She riveted against his hold and against the bathroom fixture until her tired body wilted over his prouder and more muscular figure. When she had finally made it over ten minutes without throwing-up, Garthe picked her up off of her feet again. This time he returned her to the bed.

"You will have breakfast and you will pretend to be happy about being here. Got it?" Garthe demanded, taking the time to rub her slight baby bump with his hand, as if by doing so he could maintain dominance over her. He slipped the handcuff off of his own wrist and tangled it around one of the headboards' posts. Seizing her other wrist he fastened the cold metal cuff around it, chaining her to the bed as though she were a bicycle in need of protection against theft. He didn't want her moving while he developed his plans and got his guards to come out to help. Especially those with an O positive blood type. Garthe particularly needed one that he could afford to have murdered in Bonnie's place to throw Michael and Kitt off of his trail.

Bonnie weakly grumbled, "I'm ... I'm not hungry. Besides, even Michael knight wouldn't eat anything you prepared."

Her speech shook him from his plotting mindset. The brunette's smart remark was rewarded with a quick slap across her face. Garthe had little patience for Barstow or her ungrateful attitude. Her mention of Michael again caused lava to boil within his veins. He had warned her about using his name before and now the time to pay had come.

Yanking her hair as tight as he dared to he growled lividly, "do not press your luck Barstow, I mean it. Next time you say his name, you and my son will not be treated so daintily. Got it?" His last question came with a seething snap of his teeth, as though he were an angry and very hungry wolf.

The brunette found herself swallowing harshly as her eyes hesitantly met Garthe's cold gun-metal grey ones. She shook her head "yes" too tired to continually fight the same stupid battles with the narcissistic and egotistical criminal.

"I am going to get breakfast. You better eat when I serve you or I will let you starve the next two days. Is that understood?" He pressed with a softer but more sinister tone.

Tiredly, Bonnie nodded "yes".

The curly-haired man released her air, puffed out his chest, and then walked, almost casually out of the room.

Bonnie's blue-green eyes, though they were filled with tears, were also filled with a fierce determination. A determination that refused to be so easily manipulated and squashed by Garthe's threats and acts of violence.

Wriggling her cuffed wrists, Bonnie pulled as hard as she could, hoping that perhaps the posts and maybe the headboard would come free, if only she could yank on it hard enough. The cold metal cuffs grazed her skin as she leaned forward, attempting to free herself... but to her dismay nothing budged.

She huffed in desperation and tried yet again, this time, working the cuff's chained-link as though it were a saw, rubbing it back and forth against the wooden post.

A thick sweat soon appeared on her brows as she worked herself into an almost hysterical fervor; moving the chain link back and forth as rapidly as her tired body would allow. Her skin soon began to rub raw and turn a terrible shade of red from the friction of the tight metal repeatedly tracing over it. She tried to keep the chained link going to the same place every time, but until she had created a small niche or dent in the wood, the cuff's kept sliding and slipping off their marks.

The mechanic could feel a heat building between her wrists and the post but she didn't care, escaping was the only thing on her mind. Her breaths began to come out in pants and her lungs burned from the tremendous physical effort she had been putting forth, until she had to lay back onto the bed winded and in need of a few good deep swallows of air.

Leaning her head back she let out an exasperated and staggering sigh. She couldn't help but wonder where Michael and Kitt were and if either of them had received her last transmission over the com-link. She felt herself tensing as she thought about what could and would happen to her if Michael couldn't find her. Bonnie knew Michael would't ignore her absence, especially after he had been going through her phone and had found Garthe's threats. She knew he'd eventually be able to put the pieces together and find her. Dwelling on this, gave her a bit of hope and courage to keep going. She lifted her arms once more and began tirelessly trying to saw her way through the thick post.

Suddenly, a loud booming round of laughter announced Garthe's entrance. He had burst into the room with the hot breakfast without so so much as a thunderous round of footsteps.

The F.L.A.G. mechanic dropped her task and laid back onto the bed, pretending to be innocent and bored. She swallowed sharply, knowing deep down that he had caught her in her attempt to break through the bedpost. 

Garthe gently placed the food down on a wooden nightstand beside the bed and he studied her with a mark of amusement radiating in his gunmetal blue and grey eyes.

"Escaping, my little pet? hmmmm?" He dragged his hand through Bonnie's slightly matted cascade of brunette locks. His heated lips found their way to Bonnie's check and he gave her a quick peck. Then he dragged his lips over the smooth skin to her ear and he growled, "I don't think so Barstow. If you enjoy living do not let me catch you again. Or you might find that I know of a thousand painful ways to torture and then terminate people.... even pregnant women. Now, my pretty pet, sit back and let me take care of you and my son."

Bonnie could not help but shudder as his venomous threats and tempered breaths met her ear. Her arms gave a quick tug against the post trying to reel herself out of his dominion of oppression, but the cuffs linked-chain slipped, till she was once more flat against the mattress. She finally gave up her attempts to escape in order to comply with his cruel orders.

"Now, I made you pancakes. You WILL eat them!" He commanded, cutting the pieces into small squares with a fork and knife. This action was slightly less barbaric than what Bonnie had thought he was going to do with the food. He then shoved the loaded fork in the direction of her mouth.

What if he's drugged the food? Can I run the risk of not eating? Could I end up losing my baby either way? These thoughts and many others happened to run through her mind as she stared at the fluffy brown squares aimed towards her lips.

Garthe brought the fork to her lips and hissed, "eat".

Realizing that he wasn't playing around, Bonnie slowly allowed her lips to part. Garthe quickly shoved the found in with a prideful smile playing over his face.

"That is it Barstow. Eat up," he encouraged. Garthe forced her mouth shut around the contents on the fork before removing it and returning to the plate for more.

There was something about his tone that caused Bonnie to momentarily stop chewing the food inside of her mouth, wondering if her first suspicion of the food being drugged was correct. His beaming grin irked her as she was forced to swallow and accept the next couple of pancake squares, until she had finished his two plates of food and had drank a rather large glass of cold milk. While she was eating Garthe kept gloating about his plans, most of which fell upon Bonnie's selectively deaf ears.

The menacing brute then ran his hands down Bonnie's slender shoulders and over her chest until they came to rest over her slightly swollen and now full tummy. With a dangerous smirk he bent down and kissed it. "Your father, Garthe, will take care of you. My son, I already have great plans for you," Garthe tauntingly crooned.

Inwardly, Bonnie quietly amended his statement to "your daddy, Michael, will always take care of you. Even if I can not."

His intrusive hands pressed down on her slightly swollen tummy and he remarked, "why don't you move for your father." Bonnie jolted slightly as his unwanted pressure brought about a bit of pain. She could feel her son wriggling about inside of her.

"Stop!! Stop!!! Don't hurt him!!" She frantically and hastily plead. She was hoping and praying that he'd buy her claim that he could hurt the child by pushing down on her gut. Her blue-green eyes met his unwaveringly for a moment as he seemed to consider her words. Bonnie wasn't above lying to protect the unborn baby.

His hands quickly eased the pressure from her gut and he found himself content to lightly rub his hands over her tummy. "I'm sorry, Barstow. I do not wish to hurt our son! But be mindful of correcting me!!!" Garthe apologized and then kissed her on the lips, much to her disgust.

"Now Barstow, you will get some more sleep. I want a healthy and strong son... "he commandingly stated, climbing onto the bed and snuggling up to his cuffed hostage.

Bonnie was going to protest, since she had just woken up hours earlier but her eyes had grown suddenly heavy. "You.... you.... p...put....s...something....i..in...into.....my drink......" she panted.

Garthe nuzzled her ear and cheek as one of his mighty arms wrapped around her chest. "Naturally. You do not think I would allow you to disturb my son's rest with your futile efforts to escape did you, Miss Barstow? Don't worry it's only melatonin and it won't hurt you, " He gruffly whispered.

Her blue-green eyes struggled to remain open as the surging darkness began to overwhelm her.

"Don't fight it. You know you want and need it," Garthe lulled, draping his leg over one of Bonnie's knees. He almost acted as though he cared about her and that he could be a tender gentleman. However, anyone who knew his true nature would be able to see his act as a shallow facade of kindness.

Bonnie felt helplessly frightened as her eyes finally closed and she a return sleep. Her chest slowly rose and fell into a slow and steady rhythmic movements.

When Garthe was satisfied that she was down for the count he left her side. He was preparing in advance for a possible Foundation intervention, to get Bonnie out of the country, and for the arrival of his guards. But would his plans come together before Michael and Kitt could do anything? Only time would tell.


	19. While Bonnie Sleeps

Picking up a phone in the kitchen Garthe dialed a number he had memorized during his incarceration in Africa. It belonged to a rather shady businessman... who his mother had contacted to break him out of the rotting bowls of an African prison.

The curly haired criminal heatedly remarked, "NO, I will not hold. You will be infinitely sorry if you make me wait!!!! I am Garthe Knight, son of Elizabeth. That's right."

"Mhmmm. I bet you are sorry. Now connect me to your leader, you incompetent fool!" He snarled into the receiver. His face was turning a livid shade of uncomfortable red. He practically punched a hole in the wall when it took four or so minutes to connect him with who he wanted.

"I'd like to know how soon you could get out to the mansion... like today or tomorrow. I need a couple of falsified passports and documents for myself and a girl who needs to get out the country. Yes, she is to be my wife. Hmmmm? Yes. The sooner the better. She is running away from her family and she can not have anything that can connect her to her past identity. Oh really? You can have them done here and printed with in the next few hours? My you work fast. You will be greatly rewarded my friend." Garthe breathed, a wicked grin slowly stretching across his face from ear to ear. Things were finally starting to fall into place for him..... or were they?

Ten minutes later, his guards arrived.

"What took you fools so long?" He roughly demanded, hurrying them all inside.

"Sorry, Michael Knight had some old crow sitting outside of the airport for an hour or so.... before he vanished. Then our rental car ran out of gas but we got here as soon as possible," one brave guard answered.

Garthe strode up to the speaking guard and puffing out his chest he drew himself to his full height. The six-foot tall criminal leader towered over his little minion and with a purposeful glower he fixated his gaze upon him.

"And who was the brilliant jackel who ran the car out of gas?" He seethingly demanded.

"Ficko... Ficko did..." stammered the younger guard. Garthe patted the man's checks sympathetically before pushing him aside.

The brooding man then lunged at the man named Ficko. "Come with me! We need to have a little chat!" He growled violently, taking Ficko by the neck of his shirt and practically dragging him over to the window. Lining him up with the glass panel and he pushed him out. "Let this serve as a lesson to you all!! You interfere with my plans or screw up again I will have you executed!! Is that clear? I'm not so sure I'll let you live Ficko. Don't go anywhere outside of the mansion's premises and for the love of God clean your self up!" Using the edge of a half clean and half bloodied piece of glass, Garthe picked it up and took it to Karr. If it was type O positive, Ficko was going to be used as a sacrifice and his blood was going to be splattered everywhere.

"Can I help you, master?" Karr questioned, in a tone as smooth as a sheet of refined steel.

"Yeah, tell me what Ficko's blood type is," he commandingly returned.

"As you wish, Master," Karr complied scanning the glass piece as his scanner swooshed back and forth with mounting excitement. "You're in luck, the mindless twat's blood type is O positive. Shall we terminate him?" Karr questioned in amusement.

"Not yet, but he will not leave this mansion alive. I want him killed before we drag Barstow out of here. I'll have one of the other guards spill his blood all over the bed and stair ways. Better yet, he'll meet his death in the bed," Garthe gleefully plotted. His gunmetal grey eyes shining deviously and his tongue smoothed over the rough edges of his teeth.

"Boss? A car approaches at a high rate of speed. Shall I challenge the driver?" Karr inquired.

Garthe's eyes immediately locked upon the screen showing the rapid approach.

Who had come to the mansion? Was it the expected businessman? Or was it Michael and Kitt?


	20. Unexpected or Expected Arrival

Sand encrusted and wrapped around the speeding car as it was propelled towards the mansion. Gunmetal blue and grey eyes remained fixated upon the appearance and his hands twitched with momentary hesitation and anticipation.

"Right on schedule..." came Garthe's relieved words.

With a grin he added, "Do not engage, Karr. I've been expecting this old friend. You should, however, keep your scanner's peeled for you know who."

"I see.... and as you wish master, " the sleek black trans-am crooned.

Slapping the dash affectionately, Garthe clambered out to greet his friend.

"Itzal Adisa Kgosi," Garthe breathed clasping the man's hand tightly and shaking it.

"Ah, Garthe Bishop Knight, nice to see you old friend. How is your freedom treating you? And how is your darling mother?" The African-American questioned.

"I am wonderful thank you. I enjoy my freedom thanks to you. My mother is off traveling in Europe. I presume she is doing just great. I see you are looking as strong and ruggedly handsome as ever Itzal. How are the wives and family?" Garthe questioned with genuine kindness.

"They are well, thank you Garthe. Did I tell you my second and third wives are both expecting?" Itzal inquired.

The two continued chatting about families for about ten minutes when Itzal cleared his throat. "So Garthe, how about the false passports you wanted for you and your soon to be bride? I have the equipment in the car. If you would be so kind...." he intimated.

"Right. I nearly forgot..." the curly-haired criminal exclaimed, moving to help his good friend bring the needed equipment inside.

Itzal remarked, "I want to meet this pregnant woman you want to make your bride... I don't believe I've had the honor."

"She is sleeping upstairs if you'd like to peek in and see her, you can. First room on the right... or the master bedroom," Garthe replied, waving almost dismissively towards the stairs as his men helped him set up the printing and lab like equipment.

Itzal strode up the the stairs and he slowly popped open the bedroom door. With a gentle swing of the wooden panel, Itzal brushed into the center of the room to see the handcuffed but slumbering woman. His brows raised curiously as he took note of the way she was bound, a sly smile slowly etched across his face as he saw her beautiful face and slightly swollen belly.

He spun on his heels and walked out of the room, taking extra care to close the door behind him.

"Well Garthe, she is quite a prize. I see you are working on teaching her the art of submission and being obedient as I have had to do with two of my four wives," Itzal breathed whimsically.

Garthe let out a greatly amused chuckle, "yes. She was most uncooperative at first but I think she is beginning to warm up to the idea that I am her master."

"Good for you," Itzal laughingly returned. "Since she is sleeping let us work on your passport first. Stand in front of the screen and I'll take a picture of you. Then we can decide your cover names....."

Garthe smiled and complied with everything his friend instructed him to do. Sitting down on the living-room couch with drinks in their hands, Garthe and Itzal began to discuss new names.

"Ingvar Anselmo?" Itzal read from a list, looking Garthe over for a moment. 

Garthe nearly burst into a round of laughter. "Ingvar? Anselmo? Me? Do I look that stupid? Choose another...."

"Olegario Marcelo....?" Itzal continued.

A snort escaped Garthe and a smirk painted across his lips. "Marcelo is fine. But the first name... keep working on it. Try harder to find one more fitting someone of my status."

Itzal returned, "As it pleases you." His eyes swept across the page searching for something worthy of Garthe. His lips suddenly twisted upwards and he suggested, "how about Santiago Marcelo?"

Gunmetal grey and blue eyes fixated upon the speaker for a moment and his pale lips pursed slightly. Just when Itzal was about to offer up another name, Garthe replied. "I like it. I will be Santiago Marcelo. Now what can you do for my pregnant woman?"

"Joaquina?" Itzal offered, once more scanning the list for any feminine names that might suit the brunette.

"No. Absolutely not!" Garthe grunted, nearly repulsed by the suggestion.

"Oh... okay. How about Adelina Ofelia Marcelo?"

"Yes. That is it. I like that one," Garthe exclaimed excitedly. "Do you think that we could scan her F.L.A.G. identification cards picture and use it on the passport?" Garthe immediately inquired.

"Well, I will see what I can do. I know you are anxious to get your future family out of the country.... within the next two weeks. If I remember correctly...." Itzal replied softly.

"I am moving her in two days from this mansion to one closer to a semi-private airport. That way I can get her on a private plane, avoid the family members looking for her, and I can go under the radar of the local and Mexican police. I just need the passports to get her through customs. That is all...." Garthe half-truthfully explained.

"I see. I will do my best to get you, Santiago Marcelo and Adelina Ofelia out of the country on one condition. I fully expect to be invited to the wedding," Itzal laughingly added.

Garthe nodded with a grin and without further hesitation he replied, "how could I not invite you to my wedding? You are a great help my friend."

Itzal, as he had promised, had both passports completed within the hour. He had used an intricate and rather complicated method to take Bonnie's picture from her FLAG issued i.d. He then pasted it to the false passport beside the name Adelina Ofelia Marcelo.

With a sharp air of caution Itzal warned, "now make sure she is passed out or something keeps her from being able to answer questions from the Mexican Customs department, though I don't really foresee any trouble."

"Yes. I figured that much. That is why I am ransacking my mother's stash of drugs and injections. You know, discipline and control have never been problems with me," Garthe answered.

Itzal laughed. "My friend, you sure have covered all the bases. How long till the wedding?"

"How fast can we get a preacher? A crooked, easy to bribe, and corruptible man who carries marriage certificates with him?" Garthe quickly returned.

Itzal greeted his question with a few moments of silence. "What if I can get one in the next three days? Give me directions to your other mansion and I'll bring him to you...."

Gunmetal grey and blue eyes lit up with great delight and enthusiasm. "You'd do that for me?"

"Yes. Yes, of course. I like you Garthe. You are a brother to me.... that is why I am going above and beyond to make sure you get your happy ending," the African-American high ranking soldier answered. His hand clasped around Garthe's shoulders as a gesture of camaraderie.

"Can you pick me up some feminine clothes.... in Adelina's size, while you are at it?" The curly-haired criminal inquired softly.

"Of course I can," he breathed.

After Garthe gave him the address of the next mansion and needed information, Itzal departed in search of a preacher, clothing, and a few additional requested things.

Giving orders to his guards to make food for when he was done with the brunette, Garthe mounted the stairs. He had a supplement meant to wake Bonnie from her sleep tucked away safely in his pocket. He knew she had to get exercise to keep the baby healthy and since there was a swimming pool, Garthe knew just how to help her get it.

He quickly entered the room and he freed her cuffed wrists, only to recapture one before scooping her limp form into his arms. The muscular man carried her down to the large pool room and he laid her slender figure down on a pool side chair.

Then turning his back to the still slumbering woman, Garthe fixed a large metal pole across the twelve foot deep section. He fastened it to two short concrete pillars. He then removed any excess clothes he was wearing and extracted the supplement meant to wake Bonnie from her sleep.

Cracking the little bar of smelling salts in front of her nose, he allowed himself to chuckle as she stirred awake with a frightened and clueless expression upon her face. Before she had a chance to react he grabbed her figure and threw her into the cold water.

Bonnie groggily thrashed about in a panic with one tight cuff still attached to her wrist. Garthe dove in behind her and with his mighty arms he drew her floundering figure to his chest. "Easy! I said easy!! Stop fighting me or I will personally drown you," Garthe shouted, in her ear as he propelled her towards the bar. His booming voice echoed around the stuffy pool room as though it were a cavern.

Garthe moved the cuff's chained-link over top of the metal pole and he grabbed her free wrist and quickly cuffed it as well. Then he relinquished his grasp on her, forcing her to either hurt her wrists against the tight metal binds or swim. Swimming was by far the more pleasant option.

"G....Garthe.....wha....what.... the Hell?" Bonnie sputtered, spitting out a mouthful of chlorinated water. Her legs struggling to keep her upper body out of the freezing cold water.

"You look beautiful, my pet. I love when you wear see through materials in the pool," he laughingly intimated, making eyes at her.

Bonnie gasped and looked down at herself realizing he had dropped her into the pool in a white mechanic's uniform. "Grrraahhh," Bonnie growled gruffly in disgust.

"When I get out of here, you will be sorry, Garthe!" The soaked brunette vowed.

A mocking grin appeared under a dark brown mustache and above a soul-patch. "Is that a threat, Miss Barstow?" He turned a nob with a quick flick of his wrists sending more cold water into the pool from a garden hose.

Panting, Bonnie retorted with a snarl, "you.... you better believe it is!" Her blue-green eyes blazed with a furious inferno as she glanced over at him.

Sitting on the deep-ends ladder he found himself laughing. "By the time I release you, you'll be too tired to fight me. Don't worry, my pet. I won't let you catch hypothermia but I do suggest you keep moving. I'm going to sit in the sauna for a while. Enjoy your swim," Garthe added. He got up and moved to the other-side of the pool room to enter an enclosed steam heated room.

Alone, Bonnie struggled against the tight binds. Frantically she tried to keep moving to keep her body from locking up and sinking any further into the unpleasant and shadowy depths.

The brunette shuddered as the cold water found it's way over her chest and lapped against her neck. Her breaths came out in shallow grunts and shivers. Every inch of her figure rattled about against the cold.

"G.....G...Garthhhhhee! Ga....Garthe... p....p....pl...please........he....hel....help......m.....meee......" Bonnie cried out feeling as though she was turning blue and freezing from the inside out. Tears appeared in the corners of her eyes as she tried to hold herself above the water.


	21. Sink Or Swim? Help Or Denial

Garthe slowly emerged from the sauna. His powerful body glazed with a sheen of sweat and his lower half was concealed with a nice and fluffy towel.

"You want my help, Barstow?" He doubtfully but proudly probed.

"Ye.....ye.....yes..." the brunette quickly replied without hesitation.

"If I help you, you've got to do as I say," Garthe commandingly stated. "Are you certain you still want my help?"

Bonnie didn't care what it took to get help, she just wanted out of the frigid water. "Fi....fine.....I'll..... .I'll..d.....do....wh...whatever.... .jus.... just..... he...help... m .....m..me!" She shouted between chattering teeth.

"I'll hold you to your promise, Barstow," he excitedly replied before losing his towel and diving in. It took him only a few short minutes to reach her side.

"Lean against me," he commanded as he fiddled with the cuff's keys.

Bonnie was too cold to care how close he got, so long as he freed her. She willingly leaned against his strong body as he released on side of the cuffs and he pulled her away from the bar.

Ficko appeared just in time to help his boss pull the waterlogged mechanic out of the pool. "I'll take her to the sauna to dry off. You go get our food and bring it up to our bedroom. We'll be there in ten or so minutes," Garthe commanded, snapping the free cuff around his own thicker wrist and scooping Bonnie's weakened body into his mighty arms.

He laid her body on the wooden floor of the already hot sauna. Her shivering and chattering soon subsided and within eight minutes he had back into his arms. Garthe carried her back into the pool room and then headed to their bedroom.

"I bet you, my pet, have worked up quite an appetite for yourself and my son." Garthe cheerfully chirped, when he heard her stomach grumble loudly. "Don't worry. I have them making you a delicious sandwich and a protein shake. I promise, this time nothing is spiked. As for your promise to do anything I say, well... in a few days you will find out how you can repay me," he intimated in a soft but steely tone.

Bonnie swallowed noiselessly wondering what he could possibly have in store for her. She prayed it wasn't going to be anything too terrible. The brunette couldn't help but silently wonder if Michael and Kitt were closing in on the right mansion... if they were closing in at all.

Finding the door to their bedroom open the six foot tall man couldn't help but smile. He found the mattress and quickly sat down, adjusting his position until Bonnie was sitting tiredly on his lap. He tenderly kissed her neck and rubbed her tummy as their food was brought to them. It delighted him that Bonnie was too weak and too exhausted to fight his touch and grasp.

"I'll feed you, my pet and you will eat!" Garthe commandingly stated. He ripped the sandwich into small pieces and fed her again. He handed her the protein shake, afraid that he would cause her to choke if he poured the liquid down her throat.

Begrudgingly, Bonnie partook of his offering. The sandwiches were not bad but they did leave much to be desired. She was however, grateful that he handed her the shake while he busied himself with his own nourishment. She finished the rather delicious the protein shake without putting up much of a fight.

Her relief only lasted a few minutes, for when he finished he became more aggressive and affectionate. His hand wondered over her in places she was extremely uncomfortable with and she elbowed him in the ribs. "NO! Stop!! Don't!!!" The brunette shouted.

"You forget your place!" Garthe angrily snapped.

Her chest heaved heavily as he forcefully flipped her over onto her side and cuddled up to her, his body pressing hers firmly against the bedroom wall, which lined one side of the bed. He was pleased by her wriggling and squirming. Garthe's powerful arm slipped around her waist and the other barred over her chest.

"Oh, how I will love keeping you all for myself and to have you swollen with my children," he lowly and bubbly boasted, nuzzling her ear.

Bonnie groaned and broke down in tears. Why couldn't Michael have killed the man who was making her life a living hell when he had the chance? She internally asked herself. Why couldn't she have shot Garthe? Why did she promise him that she'd do anything he'd say? Where was Michael? How much longer would a rescue take? As much as she hated to admit it she was growing infinitely impatient.


	22. Another Dead End or Is it?

TW: Death mentioned.

Spinning tires came to a screeching halt in front of the second of the mansions, Michael and Kitt had selected to search.

The former cop rushed out of the car and bound up the steps. "Kitt? Any signs of life here?"

"I'm picking up a human shaped image from within one of the first floor bedrooms, Michael. But be careful..." Kitt replied.

Wasting no time, Michael kicked in the door and bolted toward the bedroom with Kitt's guidance. When he arrived he let out a gasp and held his nose. It smelt like something had died within the room. He gagged so violently that he had to lean against the door way for a brief rest. His eyes watered to the point where it was starting to look as though the sturdy and athletic man was crying. He dragged his sleeve over his eyes and proceeded further into the room.

The man edged forward towards the bed where a figure was resting, his boots having to quickly work around a few cans of open beer and a wine bottle. The closer he got the stronger the foul stench became. Turning the figure over he realized it appeared to be a homeless drunk. He shook the man gently, "hey pal, you okay?" Michael softly questioned. When this yielded no reaction, the FLAG employee used his com-link and asked Kitt to scan the individual.

"Michael? I'm afraid he is dead and has been for a few hours now," Kitt breathed with an air of remorse.

Michael let out an exasperated sigh as he exited the room without further disrupting the man's final resting place. He was relieved that they had not found Bonnie laying in the bedroom in the drunk's place. But he was quick to remind himself that if he didn't find her soon, she could possibly share the same fate.

"Buddy, let's get to the next mansion asap. I have a really bad feeling in my gut that something is going to happen to our Bonnie," he commanded as he raced across the porch and leapt down the stairs.

"Right away, Michael," Kitt responded. His turbines beginning to roar with sonic anticipation his tires rolling against the gravel and picking up a wonderful heated friction. His gear-shifter moved from the parked position into the driving slot without the aid of a human hand. Swinging around so that his driver's side door was closer to the steps he picked Michael up and sped off.

After several moments of intense silence Kitt felt the need to encourage his partner. He gently stated, "well, Michael, at least we know where Bonnie is not being kept. There are four other mansions we have yet to investigate. Don't give up hope. Our Bonnie is strong."

"Yeah.... yeah, I know. I know buddy," Michael tiredly replied.

With a whirring of the red scanner between the headlights of the black Trans-Am, Kitt added, "the next mansion is only an hour away and with Super Pursuit Mode, we can be there within fifteen to twenty minutes."

This news brought a long awaited but faint smile to Michael's face as he clicked the SPM button on Kitt's dash. His hands clutched the pilot wheel as Kitt's turbines roared loudly like the engines on a small aircraft preparing to take off. The black trans-am's outer shell stretched out, his nose elongating and his sides extending and opening up to make use of the sonic boosters that would propel his speed to almost 300 miles per hour. Everything around them became a blur.

Michael's thoughts turned to all the things he had forgotten or neglected to tell Bonnie while she was around. His jaw squared so sharply that his lower cheeks twitched. His brows furrowed stormily over his sleep deprived pools of raging blues. Michael tried to mentally prepare himself for yet another disappointment or adversely finding his beloved mechanic in pretty bad shape. In his soul he felt he was drawing close..... but was close going to be good enough to save her?


	23. Evacuations and New Concerns: The Pressure is Mounting

Trigger warning: Blood, Guts, and Gore

A few hours later, Karr radioed Garthe, "I believe Michael and Kitt are drawing closer to this mansion. I advise you to move her within the hour." Garthe sat up and he dragged Bonnie out of the bed.

"Move!" He snarled venomously, wanting to leave no room for her to question his orders.

"Wh.....what?" Bonnie groggily groaned as she ambled forward. She was barely able to catch herself on her tip toes as she was flung forward. Wiping her eyes she tiredly mumbled, "I...... I.... have to use the bathroom....." 

A low seething snarl departed his lips as he dragged her into the bathroom and let her do what she needed to do. He barely gave her enough time to wash her hands before he pushed her into the hall and down the stairs.

"Wh...where...are...are we going?" She tiredly questioned, ambling slowly behind Garthe. Her legs were trembling violently as she was forced to move at the fast pace Garthe had set.

"We're moving," he hissed.

"W....why?" Bonnie prompted. A flicker of a smile appeared upon her face as she guessed that Michael and Kitt were closing in on him. If her suspicions were true, that meant a rescue was going to happen.... it was just a matter of time. Or.... at least she hoped one would come soon.

"Banner?! Banner!! You take Barstow and lock her in K.A.R.R! Fierst? You get the rest of the men in your car. Not you Ficko! Ficko, you come with me!!!" Garthe shouted orders like a army drill Sargent.

Bonnie's wrist was freed from around Garthe's arm but not completely released from the cuffs as a tall, bald, and athletic man seized her arm.

"This way Ma'am," Banner smoothly stated, leading her out of the mansion as quickly as he could.

"Let me go!!! Please.... let me escape," Bonnie begged, to no avail.

Banner grumbled, "orders is orders Ma'am. I can't just let you go."

Karr popped open the door for the hostage as she was pushed forward. She was contained before she could make any kind of deals with the guard. Karr wasn't going to let her make an escape so Bonnie had to sink back within his seat.

Meanwhile, Garthe took Ficko up the stairs and into the bedroom, where he and Bonnie had been resting moments before.

"Get on the bed!" Garthe fumed commandingly.

Ficko shook uneasily as he got down onto the bed. "Face down!!!" He added, grabbing a gun from the dresser. The small hand gun, a .45 caliber Colt Magnum from the dresser and he loaded it. Cocking the gun he heard Ficko, the imbecile, pleading for his life to be spared.

"It's a little too late for that Idget!" Garthe snapped, grabbing a pillow. He hurriedly pressed it to Ficko's head before nuzzling the barrel of the gun in the fluffy contents. Without flinching or even blinking Garthe snatched the trigger and fired three shots into the guard's head.

He then put on a pair of rubber gloves, taking the body and spread the blood all over the mattress, the covers, and the bed. He tossed down the gun. Then he seized Ficko's ankles and ripped the dying man off of the bed. The criminal marched his limp body down the stairs, making sure the twat's head hit violently upon every step as he made his way to the basement. Scarlet streaks and spatter was left decorating the mansion by the time Garthe was through with him.

Ripping off the rubber gloves, Garthe started a fire in the mansion's fire pit and burned the blooded evidence.

Turning, he walked out of the mansion with a pleased grin stretching from ear to ear. He slammed the mansions door behind him as if to announce any business he had at this particular structure was over.

Karr crooned as Garthe climbed into the driver's seat,"Well done, Master. You finally deactivated that mindless twat!! It is a shame he was malfunctioning."

"YOU KILLED SOMEONE?!!" Bonnie gasped and shouted in question. Her guts churning with intense disgust.

"Yeah, so?" Garthe casually retorted, bringing car's gear into the drive position.

"I can't believe you killed someone! You disgust me!! Let me go, this instant!!!" Bonnie shouted lividly.

"I don't think I asked for your opinion!! Now did I?" Garthe prompted, shooting his pregnant hostage a dangerous glower. "See here Barstow, I am getting very tired of you contesting my every action or commands. If you so desire. I will pull over here and do to you what I did to Ficko!"

Bonnie mumbled, "no....no... I'm... I'm fine." Of course she was lying about being fine but she didn't want whatever happened to Ficko to happen to her.

The brunette sank into the cushioned seat with a huff. She was getting sick of being in Garthe's crummy custody and so she decided to sleep. After all, staying awake for the long ride seemed like a stupid and torturous idea. If Michael and Kitt intercepted them on their way to the next mansion, she'd know it soon enough. For now, all she could do was sit, rest, and wait. But would Michael and Kitt intercept them?


	24. The Ultimatum

Three hours later they arrived at the mansion. Getting out of Karr's cabin, Garthe let lose a slew of curses when he noticed the door had been busted down.

Bonnie awakened, groaned, and realized that the vehicle had stopped. She gathered from her observation of the mansion's busted doors, that Michael must have already stopped to investigate this location. A sinking feeling overtook her chest and she couldn't help but let a few tears trickle down her face. For the first time, she truly feared that the rescue she had stored her hopes in wouldn't come.

Karr scanned the place and replied, "looks like Michael and the inferior production model were here and recently too. This could be a good thing for us. That means he won't get around checking this place again for a while, if he doubles back at all. And by that time, you will have Barstow in Mexico."

Bonnie's head shot up and she exclaimed, "Mexico?! Mexico??? Are you out of your mind???!!! I don't have a passport on me... so you can't possibly take me out of the country." She folded her arms across her chest confidently, thinking that she had finally caught a snag in his plans.

"That is where you are wrong, Barstow. Master Garthe has a passport for you. Or should I say, Adelina Ofelia...soon to be Marcelo," Karr boasted.

The realization of what Karr was implying flashed across her stunned face as quick as a bolt of lightning passes from one area of the sky to the next. Her blue-green eyes took on a darkness to them and she growled, "you have faked passports and documents?!" She had momentarily forgotten to whom she was talking. Garthe was a criminal mastermind in his own right. Bonnie should have recalled. She had read, studied, and practically memorized his files after she had returned to the Foundation battered, beaten, and bruised.

"They are not fake according to Itzal and believe you me, they'll look real enough when we go through customs," Garthe bragged pridefully.

"Like Hell Garthe," Bonnie flatly spat.

The man returned, "what was that, Barstow? I could have sworn you were defying my authority again."

Bonnie's teeth ground one upon the next as she tried to bite back a smart ill-tempered retort.

Karr chirped, "I believe Miss Barstow said, like Hell. If I am not mistaken."

"Let me tell you something Barstow, you promised to do anything I asked when you were back in the pool or have you forgotten? That means you are going to are going to become my wife... and we are going to Mexico to raise our son," Garthe snarled.

"What?" Bonnie inquired, completely stunned by his demands. The last thing she heard was "become my wife" slipping from Garthe's lips. Her ears almost began to burn from the mere suggestion that she become bound to him in marriage, legal or otherwise.

"You can't just change my name, demand to marry me, and force me to move when I'm already married to .... Michael! YOU JUST CAN'T!!! ARE YOU INSANE OR SOMETHING?!!" She furiously shouted.

Garthe seized Bonnie's wrists with such a force that he could have sworn he heard one pop. Looking her in dead in the eyes he fumed, "you made a promise to do what I ask of you. Have you already forgotten? Either you make good on that promise or this will be the last place you will ever see!!! Now, are you going to keep your promise and be punished for mentioning the living breathing insult to my existence. Or I will to kill you right here and now! Your choice Barstow."

"I'll give you exactly thirty seconds to make up your mind," he added. Garthe released her wrists and pulled a gun out of Karr's back seat. While he awaited her answer he made a show of deliberately loading the weapon and cocking it. His pointer finger rested upon the trigger and he lifted the barrel in her direction and he calmly began counting down from thirty.

"Twenty-nine...twenty-eight... twenty-seven....twenty-six...twenty-five...." with each second the gun was brought closer and closer to her trembling form.

The lives of two people now dangled in the mechanic's hands. Will she choose life or death?


	25. The Choice

Bonnie sat for a moment, studying the man. Chills washed up and down her spine and she swallowed sharply. She could swear her heart rose to clog the inside of her throat as she considered the equally despicable options. Bonnie wanted to live. She had to live if she was ever going to see her beloved family again and deliver her son into the world. 

"Ten.... nine.....eight....seven....six......five....four..." he continued counting, without any kind of hesitation.

With a staggering and pained sigh she choked, "fi...fine. I'll.....I'll marry you and...do as...as you say." Her shoulders slumped in defeat and her head hung lowly under the weight of duress and coercion. The brunette felt like a complete failure and she prayed Michael would forgive her for making the choice that would give the child and herself a chance to live. Deep down, Bonnie feared even though she chose to live and to do as he commanded, that he would still threaten to take her life and that of her child's. Garthe's manipulative powers never seemed to cease working, no matter who, what, or how much they destroyed.

"Good choice," Garthe breathed, stealing yet another kiss from the mechanic.

Instead of exiting through his own door, he scooted into Bonnie's seat with the gun still loaded and ready to fire in his hands. His arm draped over her shoulders as he asked Karr to slowly open his mechanical door. Shoving the pregnant mechanic out of Karr's cabin he marched her up the steps, past the splintered doors, and into the new mansion.

The free side of the handcuff's dangled between them as he quickly herded her down the basement steps and into the steel lined vault, the door had been hanging preciously ajar since Michael had investigated it. Garthe drew her further into the overwhelming darkness, the sounds of small creature moving made the mechanic jump.

Suddenly, Garthe's arm was removed from around her. Bonnie's heart froze and she felt sick with anticipation of some kind of violence.

"BOOM!" Rang a shot out of the handgun Garthe carried and a salted smoke like scent filled the room.

Bonnie had seen the flash and braced herself against what she presumed to be the wall. Unbeknownst to the Foundation's mechanic, the bloodied body of creature lay just a foot from her boots. Her blue-green eyes fearfully searched for his, though she didn't know where to look in the darkness. A near panic was over taking her body as a sharp shriek was heard and then the rustling sound ceased completely.

Garthe reached over to feel for the light switch with a round of uproarious laughter. Flicking the switch, a single dull bulb fluttered dimly to life in the middle of the room. He put his gun down the back of his pants as a temporary holder. He knew he needed both hands free for what he was about to do to her.

"This isn't meant to be fun, Barstow. It is punishment. In time, you will learn to love me," remarked Garthe as he made his second approach. Taking her by the hair he forced her to her knees and then onto the ground. Wrestling her arms behind her back, he twisted them and then cuffed them tightly. "Try to escape and I'll shoot you just like the dead rat. This should give you plenty of time to think about what you've done. You are mine, Barstow. I don't ever want you to forget that. Do I make myself clear?!" He demanded callously. 

"Ve...very....cle...clear," Bonnie stammered, spitting out the strands of her hair that had found their ways into her mouth. Her chin brushed against the rough concrete floor of the vaulted room as she struggled to get a good breath of clean air. 

Garthe quickly walked back over to the light-switch and flipped it again. This time letting the thick darkness consume every inch of the steel vault. "Don't worry Barstow. Think about our permanent honeymoon in Mexico and our house full of children," he commented with a grin. With another laugh, Garthe slammed the vault door shut and then locked it. 

The exhausted mechanic lay flat on her stomach in the dark. Her arms were cuffed so tightly behind her back that even the slightest movement caused them pain. Trying to get up without the use of her hands and arms was darn near impossible. At this point she was so exhausted she resigned to stay in the defeated position. Bonnie was able to relax knowing that at least she didn't have to worry about being beaten or killed when she was alone in the vault. For the first time since she had been abducted she fell asleep completely wrapped in the serene noiseless darkness. 

In the meantime, Garthe made his way back up the stairs with a joyful whistle and ever-growing smile as he thought about the wedding. The marriage ceremony that would spit in the very face of his fiercest rivals and enemies. He didn't care what kind of strain he had put Bonnie through, her pain was irrelevant to his grand plans. 

Itzal was bringing the false passports, the pastor, the rings, and a wedding gown. Garthe had contacted his mother's hair-dresser and asked her to come do Bonnie's hair and make-up. Fortunately for him, she was able to drop her plans at the drop of a hat. All he had to do was shower and prepare... or was it? Would there be an unexpected wedding crashing incident? Or will Bonnie become bound to Garthe forever? What would be come of the unborn baby?


	26. Fearful Discoveries

Karr had been right, Michael and Kitt had been closing in on them. Six hours after Garthe had taken Bonnie away from the mansion, they arrived. 

"Michael?" Kitt hesitantly spoke, breaking the awkward silence that had flooded the cabin. 

In a low and quietly seething tone Michael replied, "what is it, Kitt?" 

"Michael. I think Bonnie's been here...." Kitt confessed.

Michael grumbled softly, "What makes you say that, buddy?" 

His red scanners swooshed from side to side and he answered, "look outside the passenger door. There is a button and it looks like one off of Bonnie's boots."

Michael gently kicked open his door and climbed out of the cabin and rushing around Kitt's front fender, he made his way to the passenger's side. Low and behold there, nestled in the desert's dry earth lay something that made his guts churn. Kitt was right. The button did appear to come off of one of Bonnie's boots. He picked up the small button and he clutched it tightly in his hand. "If Bonnie was here..... that could mean she is still alive," he mused aloud. 

He bound up the stairs of the brick and creme colored mansion and he tried the door. To his surprise the door gave a welcoming groan before swinging wide open. Michael breathed, "Kitt, keep your scanners peeled Buddy. Something doesn't feel right here."

Kitt replied, "as you wish Michael."

His blue eyes slowly absorbed the strange new setting and then suddenly, they widened. Breath hitched in his throat and he felt his heart drop inside of his chest. Shakily he commanded, "Kitt..... get the police down here. There is blood everywhere...." He stifled a sob, knowing that he could contaminate the crime scene he shouldn't move further into the house until the police arrived.

Before he made his way out of the mansion, Michael scooped down and got a sample of the blood he took it out to Kitt. Leaning in the open passenger's side door Michael begged, "Kitt, scan this for me would yah?"

"Absolutely," Kitt replied opening his tray for the blood sample. With a few mechanical beeps he finished his analysis. "Michael.... the blood is O positive.... just like Bonnie's." There was a haunted kind of sound to his usually steady voice. Even his voice modulator seemed to flash worriedly. 

Michael seemed deflated and defeated as he leaned against Kitt for support. This wasn't the good news he had been expecting. No, it felt as though the earth was shattering beneath his feet. He felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him when he considered everything he had seen. The amount of blood on the stairs and floors leading to the basement was enough to render even a large bull helpless... if not dead. Bonnie wasn't a large woman even with her first couple months of pregnancy she still maintained a slender figure. The loss of that much blood would be fatal for her and Michael knew it. 

"God.... please....please don't let that be my Bonnie," he prayerfully implored, turning his gaze heavenward. The strong man felt like breaking down and sobbing but he knew every moment mattered when recovering abducted individuals. His feet shifted anxiously and he slowly turned back to the mansion. 

Once past the door he was overcome by the great amount of blood spread almost everywhere for a second time. The growing stench of death and destruction was almost too much for him to handle with the typical fineness.

A small curse escaped his lips and he made his way back out onto the porch, desperate for a breath of clean air. He leaned over the side of the mansion's railing feeling as though he might vomit from the intensity of the situation. His shoulders drew back defensively as he paced in front of the door until he could regain his bearings. He took in several large swallows of air, which caused his reddened face to slowly return to its typical shade. While his stomach was still violently upset, he knew he had to do something more than stand around waiting for someone else to do the dirty work. Getting over the initial waves of shock and horror, Michael breathed,"I have to go back in, Kitt. If something has happened to Bonnie, I might be her last hope."

Kitt didn't say anything. He knew no matter what he'd say, Michael would rush back in there to see if he could render aid to anyone he found; especially his beloved Bonnie. His scanners swooshed sadly from side to side. Kitt couldn't help but worry that Michael's worst suspicions would be confirmed. 

"Michael?" Kitt finally broke the silence as his partner disappeared back into the mansion.

"Yes, Kitt?" He breathed into the com-link.

"I'm picking up a body in the basement....." Kitt answered. His preceptors were unable to give him any other information about the figure because of the way the mansion was laid out. 

Michael sucked in a staggering breath and without further hesitation, he carefully tip-toed his way around the crime scene so as to not complicate the case further. He took extra caution to not touch anything more than he had to in order to get to the body. 

When he had found the bloodied man, Michael let out a gasp and he covered his nose with the sleeve of his black leather jacket. "Ohh....God!" He exclaimed, having to look away for a moment. Tears of relief and disgust twinkled over the blue surfaces of his eye. He gagged at the sight of the brutality that was typical of the scenes left in Garthe's wake. The man's pinkish brain seemed to be seeping out of the almost crushed skull cavity.

In a soft tone he confessed over his com-link, "Kitt, it isn't Bonnie.... but the man is dead. It looks like he was shot in the head and dragged down the stairs......" He pinched the bridge of his nose and he wiped away the silvery orbs that threatened to slip down his face. He had been at the scenes of murders before but even the death of his policing partner hadn't leave him so disturbed and unnerved. This was different. This killing seemed like a personalized warning message of some kind. 

The wails of sirens could be heard making an approach and so he made his way back to the porch where he greeted the police investigator. Michael had to explain the entire situation and why he was poking around a crime scene. Showing the investigators his I.D., Michael gave them an idea of what they were looking at and for. He also mentioned that he believed Garthe was behind the entire thing. The investigators were extremely grateful for his help and seemingly advanced expertise. 

"You say this man is named Garthe Knight... and that... he looks a little like you?" The sharp investigator questioned taking down all the information Michael was feeding him in a notebook. His quick hand scribbled down every detail. 

Michael let out an almost impatient huff, "yes. Garthe Bishop Knight. He took my pregnant wife and I'm afraid he is going to kill her. If you have any more questions could you please.... please contact my boss Devon Miles of the Foundation for Law and Government. As much as I'd love to stick around and chat about the case... I have to find her. She is my everything. I can't afford to lose her or the baby." He couldn't just pretend everything would be okay after seeing what Garthe had done to what one of his own soldiers.

The inquisitive investigator seemed to eye him suspiciously for a moment before deciding that Michael was telling the truth. "Alright. Thank you, Mr. Knight. We will be in touch soon," he vowed. "If you need any help locating your missing wife. Why don't you let us help you?"

Michael hesitantly considered the offer, "no... no thank you for your offer. I appreciate it honestly I do. Knowing Garthe the way I do, if he sees any sign of the police getting involved, he will not hesitate to kill Bonnie and the baby. I will, however, let you know if there is anything you can do. I won't rest until this guy is behind bars again. He is a dangerous felon. I warn you to be careful. Do not confront him without a large amount of backup...." he added warningly. 

"Okay. I see your point. Good luck," the investigator breathed. He found it odd that the curly-haired former cop would decline any offer of help he received. The police investigator also figured that if Michael was as experienced as he claimed to be, that he had to know what he was doing. 

Michael raced out to Kitt and breathed, "we are running out of mansions to search, buddy and we still haven't found her. Where does this maniac have her?" He was more so making an observational statement than asking for advice. He tapped Kitt's pilot wheel thoughtfully. His brow was marked with severe agitation as he tried to piece the clues together. Sinking behind the wheel they set off again. 

Kitt too analyzed the information he had been given as well as his own observations. His CPU and microprocessors were working over time in order to think of a solution to Michael's question. "We still have several mansions to search on this side of the state......" Kitt suggested.

"I don't know Kitt. Something just seems off....." Michael murmured, still wracking his brain over all of the clues and discoveries that he had made before Bonnie's abduction and after it. Michael couldn't dismiss the nagging feeling that something was about to go miserably awry if they did not rescue the brunette from her captor's custody. But what.....?


	27. Vows and Empty Promises

A dreamless sleep dragged on for what seemed to be an eternity in the dank vault. The hardened floor caused everyone of her muscles to grow stiff and spasm. Her arms, still locked behind her back, had long ago grown numb. Now both arms had ceaseless sensations of pins and needles pushing about them.

Heavy footsteps approaching her location caused the weary mechanic to awaken. Her eyes strained to see anything in the the pitch black room. Even the floor that she felt inches from her face and supporting her body was invisible to her. That is, until a ray of blinding white light unexpectedly pierced through the otherwise impenetrable black haze. The brunette quickly turned her gaze away from the flash. Then bravely, she forced her eyes to adjust long enough to investigate what was happening.

A muscular figure's silhouette emerged, blocking the well-lit exit with his rather large features. "Michael?" She softly croaked, knowing it was a long shot but hoping it was him all the same.

The menacing chuckle that was awarded as a reply told her that her rescuers had yet to arrive. She shuddered as the figure drew closer and closer to her. "Miss Barstow? I've been sent to fetch you for wedding preparations," explained the soldier. Then in a demanding and rather unpleasant tone he added, "I've been told to shoot you if you resist. So please, Miss, don't do anything stupid. I'd rather not have to murder a pregnant woman as pretty as yourself." 

A snort of disgust escaped her. She had forgotten about her promise to marry the despicable felon but obviously he had not. "Look.... please.... just let me go...." Bonnie softly uttered, playing upon his display of a conscience. 

"Don't go abeggin me, Miss. I can't and won't disobey, Master Garthe's orders. I've got two kids and a wife at home," he breathed in a hushed manner. It was as though, he feared that his every word was being listened to. Or at the very least, being recorded. 

Swallowing sharply, Bonnie's blue-green eyes fell to study the floor. She had no right to ask the guard to risk his own life or the lives of his family for her freedom and comfort. Bonnie was very perceptive and she could understand, with very little difficulty, his fear. Softly she resigned with a sigh, "be...because you have so much to lose, I will... not fight you. Just.... please don't....don't hurt me or my baby..." She added the last part, hoping and praying that the two could come to some kind of mutual understanding and agreement. 

His eyes seemed to shine softly for a moment and he answered in another hushed and hurried manner, "yes, Ma'am." He scooped her off of the ground as gently as he could. Unlike Garthe and some of his other guards, this man seemed to be more willing to exercise a compassionate air. He stood still for a moment to allow Bonnie to lean on him until she could adjust to being return to her own unsteady feet. 

Quietly he whispered, "you okay, Miss" when he noticed that Bonnie seemed to be having a great deal of trouble regaining her balance. 

Bonnie let out a quavering breath before returning in an equally low tone, "I...I will be...fi..fine..." It was a lie as far a she knew. She didn't know what was going to happen or if she'd truly be okay. Still she maintained a kindling of hope. Hope that she'd soon be delivered from the mess in which, she currently found herself helplessly entangled.

Slowly the guard marched her around the vault's open door and into a barely visible trap room beside it. She hadn't seen it when she had come in. Furthermore, she doubted anyone would have seen it had they not been looking specifically for it. 

Inside the small room there was a barber's chair, with straps on it, beside a large mirrored table. The table held a curling iron, a hairdryer, soaps, several brushes, hair-spray, and a bag full of what appeared to be make-up. A lady approached her and the guard and she circled the two as if, she had been a vulture sizing up prey. 

"Well, if Garthe wants me to work on this beauty, you're gonna have to un-cuff her arms. Just stick them in the chair's straps and I'll get to work," she stated, between the cracking of her gum's many bubbles. 

Bonnie nodded to the seemingly uneasy guard as he fumbled with the many keys attached to his belt. Selecting the right key, he set about working on the cuffs. He removed one of her arms from the binds, hesitating slightly. In a way he was testing her ability to keep the promise that she wouldn't fight back. In another way, he was inwardly wrestling with his own options to disregard any threat to his own well-being. Snapping out of the tempting thoughts, he lowered both of her arms and walked her over to the chair. 

In a commanding tone he barked, "sit." When she did as she was told, he strapped her arms tightly into the chair. He leaned forward as if to snarl at her but instead he apologetically whispered, "please if you have it in your heart, forgive me." Without waiting for an answer, he spun around on his heels and marched out of the room. 

Bonnie fidgeted restlessly in the uncomfortable chair. Her numb arms and hands slowly began to reclaim feeling and a range of motion as she pointed and flexed her fingers. She looked up at the hair-dresser as the lady mumbled to herself about which hairstyle she'd give her. 

"So you're gettin married today sweetheart? Must be sooo excitin" The lady casually remarked as she ran a comb through Bonnie's disheveled brunette locks. Then with a grunt the lady added, "I'm gonna have to wash your hair huns. I can't do nothing with it the way it is now." The small but bulky lady dragged over a bucket of water and she pushed Bonnie's head back into the contents, spilling water in every which direction on the floor. She squirted soap into the brunette's hair and began to aggressively rub it in until Bonnie thought the bubbling and fruity smelling soap would become embedded in her head. She grimaced as rough fingernails seemed to scratch along her scalp. Another bucket of clean water was quickly poured over her head and face causing Bonnie to sputter. The cycle was repeated with conditioner. Bonnie's mechanic's uniform was now soaked around the shoulders and the fabric clung to her skin. 

The hum of the blow-dryer at work caused Bonnie to grow slightly annoyed. She couldn't hear herself think over the ruckus. Eventually she stopped trying to drown out the sound and she closed her eyes. She knew that if she was to survive the ordeal she'd have to get some rest. 

"Would yah stop gettin all nervous Annie on me!" The barber grumbled, yanking Bonnie's hair back. In her sleep she had been fidgeting and slipping downwards in the chair and the tugging sensation caused her to groggily return to the proper posture.

"Be careful! Stop movin, lest you want your pretty little face or head burnt to a crisp by my iron," the lady sharply chastised. Tangling a thick lock of her hair in between the hot ends of the iron and twisting it all the way up to almost touched her skull. The woman sprayed heavily sprayed the fresh curl before moving on to the next. This process continued far longer than Bonnie was uncomfortable with. 

Bonnie felt a sharp pain rising and ebbing in her back from sitting in the chair for the extended period of time. Finally, the woman finished her work with her hair. Casting a glance in the mirror, Bonnie groaned under her breath. She had to admit the princess-like look the woman had done on her didn't appear as terrible as she thought it would. However, she desired to look beautiful for just one man.... Michael.... and no one else. 

The woman then rummaged around in her make-up bag extracting a foundation that was close to the shade of Bonnie's skin. Breaking open the powder, the woman began coating her face thickly with it. "Aren't you goin to look so darlin for your husband," she chirped.

Bonnie wanted to retort, "Garthe isn't my husband and I'm not happy about this marriage to him. Besides, I'm already married to Michael Knight." But the mechanic only bit her tongue and sat there quietly, while the woman droned on and on about how lucky she was. Inwardly she thought, if you think I'm so lucky, why don't you trade places with me and marry him yourself? 

In time, eyeshadow, mascara, and even a rosy red lipstick was applied to her face. With every glance into the mirror Bonnie seemed to feel less and less like herself and more and more like a china doll. 

When the woman finished she brought back the guard. He let out a whistle as he looked in Bonnie's direction.

"The master will be pleased," he stated simply. There was a glimmer in his eyes that seemed to indicate he was no more happy about the situation than Bonnie was.

"Release her because I need to help her into her gown," the hair-dresser commanded. She nodded in the direction of a lacy and sparkly white gown. 

Bonnie's eyes flashed in the direction of the gown and she grumbled under her breath, "you've got to be kidding me." Even with her pregnancy bump and still slender figure, the gown appeared to be too small. 

"Nope. That's the gown he said you wanted to wear. You might have been smaller when you picked it out," the clueless hair-dresser remarked.

The female mechanic shot her a dangerous glower before letting out a sigh. Bonnie was losing her patience to correct people... especially this seemingly incorrigible woman. She was, however, relieved when she was granted her freedom to stand up again. The guard let her use her arms as he walked her over to the dress. Bonnie's fingers rubbed slowly over her slight baby bump knowing her unborn son was getting restless. 

The man stopped her in front of the dress before moving to the other-side of the room. His gaze averted as the seemingly unbothered hair-dresser forced her to change out of all of her clothes and into the ones Garthe had selected for her. She felt utterly humiliated having to put on garments that she herself had not chosen. The undergarments were as lacy, just as the gown appeared to be. Inwardly she cringed having a good idea as to why he had picked out the small and more revealing garments for her to wear under her dress. 

The long white fabric was wrestled over her head and shoulders, till it draped over her figure. She was just relieved to have her figure once more covered up. The hair-dresser moved behind Bonnie and without warning she began to zip-up the gown. This became slightly problematic as she tried to close the gown over Bonnie's slightly expanded hips. The woman yanked and yanked at the zipper. "Suck in your gut darlin," she unhelpfully commanded.

Bonnie puffed out her chest in anger and balled her fingers into tight fists before trying to comply. It was no use, the zipper seemed stuck. 

"You, guard, help her," the woman bossily ordered.

The sheepish guard approached and with a quick tug of the zipper, the dress enclosed tightly around her every feature. The sparkly and lacy fabric dug into her skin and to Bonnie's dismay it accentuated her curves, especially her belly. She couldn't deny that she was with child even if she tried. The gown hugged the bump so tightly, it seemed to become two times larger than it really was. It was the same way with her chest and hips. 

"You look beautiful, Miss," the guard breathed. 

Bonnie turned to look him in the eyes she humbly returned, "thank you." The truth was, she felt hideous, fat, and undesirable. She couldn't help but think that Michael might scream and run away if he saw her like this. While Bonnie knew this was an absurd imagining, it still irked her.

The guard then crouched down to help her with the heels that Garthe had also selected. She stumbled a bit as she slipped her swollen feet into them. Bonnie wanted nothing more than to fall into her Michael's arms, bury her head into his chest, and cry out every tear that her eyes could hold. But where was he? How much longer would she be forced to endure Garthe's brutality? 

Suddenly, the door to the secret room opened again. This time five more soldiers marched in, three of them were heavily armed. One took Bonnie's arm and the others took hold of the gowns long train. The kind guard who had been so helpful faded into the background as another spat, "Your presence is requested by your husband-to-be." 

Bonnie trembled violently as they half-dragged and half-marched her up the steps. She knew this wasn't going to end well if a ring was placed on her bare finger. "Michael... stop this..." she silently mouthed, as she was forced to accept a bundle of flowers and a suited man's arm. A veil was forced atop her head and then without warning she was ushered down the aisle. Garthe toyed with a bowtie that seemed to rest crookedly on the neck of his otherwise well-tailored suit. 

Garthe stood at the other end of the room with Itzal and a preacher. He appeared to be the kind of fake religious expert that could be found in one of the many Vegas bars and Casinos for a dollar or less. Everyone but Bonnie seemed to be smiling as she ambled quiet awkwardly towards her terrible fate.

The preacher thumped his book, which Bonnie doubted was a Bible, impatiently with his thumb as she was roughly delivered into Garthe's anxiously awaiting arms. His muscular arms found their way around her middle, crossing over the small of her back. His hands then cupped around her hips anchoring her tightly against him. He left her no room to wriggle out of his grasp. She was once more his prisoner. 

Bonnie let out a gasp as her belly was pressed flush against his soft middle. He leaned down and breathed, "you, my prize, are beautiful. I can't wait to get you alone in our new home."

She felt as though she might throw-up as the preacher began to drone on. Garthe, whose large hands were trembling even as they rested on her, finally snapped, "cut out all the unnecessary stuff, would you! My bride and I have a honeymoon and other business to attend to. Bonnie felt herself shiver as she heard his words. Looking into his gun-metal grey eyes nervously she couldn't help but imagine Michael and Kitt busting in and carrying her away from this mess.

"Do you Garthe Knight aka. Santiago Marcelo, take Miss Barstow as your wife so long as you both shall live," the preacher questioned, shifting his balance slowly from side to side. 

Immediately, a sly grin appeared on his face and Garthe answered, "I do." Garthe shot him a look that read, "get the names right the next time or I'll feed you to the sharks". 

The preacher's as well as the rest of the rooms' attention turned to Bonnie as Garthe ripped the dainty veil away from her face. Her heart seemed to crash violently against her rib-cages and she started imagining how freeing it would be just to pass out. But Garthe, seemed to notice the defiant thoughts and he bent forward to growl in her ear, "try anything Barstow and you will die right here." His arms tightened against her to make it fully known that any act of rebellion would not be tolerated.

"Do you Miss Barstow... I mean Adelina Ofelia, take Garthe... I mean, Santiago as your husband so long as you both shall live?" 

Silence flooded the air as Bonnie's gaze darted about the room. She was stalling, trying to buy time for her rescue by refusing to answer. 

Garthe became livid and he seethingly growled, "answer the man!"

Swallowing sharply, Bonnie softly murmured, "I....I...I do.."

Collective breaths seemed to be held across the room at her half-hearted obedience. 

"I'm sorry Ma'am. What was that? I couldn't hear you," softly implored the preacher. 

Garthe's fingers dug harshly into her already pained sides, his gunmetal grey eyes radiated a stormy fury that was about to explode. He didn't need to say another word to cause Bonnie to fear. All he had to do was cast a plotting glance at her tummy before Bonnie cleared her throat and more loudly repeated, "I.....I... I do." 

"You may now exchange rings," the preacher commanded. 

Bonnie felt a twinge of hope seep back into her soul. Wouldn't it be amazing if he forgot to get wedding bands? She asked herself. She was only able to entertain the thoughts for a moment before Garthe's one hand pulled away from her to accept the dark-colored wedding bands.

Inwardly she cursed. She knew he must have been planning to do this for a long time in order to have almost every single detail worked out so well. Garthe shoved the ring intended for him on his own finger before snatching at Bonnie's hand. 

Instinct took over and she pulled it away at the last second, leaving his fingers to enclose around nothing but air. He growled like an angry bull dog, his teeth flashed in a maddening rage. "Give me your hand," he callously demanded. Any sense of humor or amusement washed from his face and it was replaced with a serial-killer like intensity.

Reluctantly she allowed him to snatch her hand and the ring was forced over her knuckle. It was a tight fit but he made it work. She tried to back away from him knowing what would come next. She had been to enough weddings and through one of her own to know that the preacher would command her to let him kiss her. 

Tight fingers enclosed around her upper arms as the words "you may now kiss the bride" were spoken. Rough lips were soon pressed against her smoother ones. He held her there for several minutes showing a rather unusual display of gentle affection. 

"I now pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. Knight- I mean- Marcelo," the preacher stated, clapping as though her were some sort of amused Capuchin monkey. 

"It will just be Marcelo, you dim-wit," Garthe boomed, when he finally pulled his lips away from Bonnie's. 

A gun was pressed into her ribcage by Garthe as he walked her over to sign the marriage agreement. "Sign the papers," he ordered, leaving little to no room for an argument. 

Bonnie's trembling fingers encompassed the pen she was given and he forced her to sign as Adelina and not Bonnie, which seemed strange to her. He too signed the papers, sealing their marriage.

The brunette felt sick to her stomach and she knew that she wouldn't be able to look Michael in the eyes because she felt she betrayed him by not fighting back. This, however, could not be further from the truth. The only reason she complied was the fact that Michael had expressed his delight over the child she carried. He had once stated that the child was the most important thing in the world to him.... even if it was fathered by Garthe. If only Michael could have saved her sooner this... forced second marriage.... would have never happened.

Without warning Garthe swept Bonnie off of her feet and began to carry her back out to Karr. He chuckled excitedly as he watched the shock sweep across the mechanic's face. "Mexico here we come!" He chanted proudly as he practically threw Bonnie in Karr's passenger's seat. He then climbed into the driver's seat and closed the door. 

"Poor Michael Knight. It will crush his very soul to know that you and our son both belong to me now. You yourself signed papers attesting to this," Garthe exclaimed giddily. 

Bonnie's eyes welled with tears as she averted her gaze. Garthe slammed his foot down on the gas pedal and began speeding off to the private airport, which was only about ten minutes away. He was singing and happily chatting about all of his messed up plans for their futures. He outlined how Bonnie was to deliver their first son and name him Garthe. Then she was to have no more than a months rest before she'd be expected to try for another child. He hadn't been kidding when he spoke of having an army of children with her, much to the brunette's discomfort and disgust. Michael would never have said anything of the kind to her. In fact, unlike the selfishness that Garthe displayed, Michael would be concerned about helping Bonnie make it through the first birth and he'd ensure her safety...as well as her son's. Garthe continued to ramble ceaselessly but the brunette was no longer listening to his cruel words.

She focused her gaze upon the horizon knowing that perhaps, Michael shared the same view. Her fingers gingerly etched a small shaky heart over the cold pane. If only... she could see him one last time. If only she could tell Michael all of the things that now washed through her troubled mind. If only she could press one last kiss to his lips before she'd be forced to take part in Garthe's plans.

She shook these desperation born dreams from her mind as Karr was suddenly thrown into park upon a landing field. Sniveling she wiped her runny nose upon the dresses coarse sleeve of her dress. The roar of a distant planes' engine was enough to make her shriek. 

"No!!! No one said I had to get on an airplane. I won't do it! I won't," she suddenly protested with a renewed vigor. Her father, also a Foundation mechanic and technician, had been killed in front of her eyes when one of the Foundation's planes malfunctioned. Since then, Bonnie has adamantly and profusely refused to step foot on another one. She had gone on one flight since that time and it was a living-nightmare thanks to some overzealous terrorists. There was no way in Hell she'd get on another plane.... or was there? Would Michael and Kitt be able to interfere before she'd be dragged into Mexico with a fake passport and papers? Or would this, like the last few dreamed up expectations, be dashed by Garthe's well-thought out plans?


	28. A New Line of Logic

In the meantime, Michael begins stating everything he has figured out about the case, about the mansions, and about anything and everything else of relevance that he could think of. He didn't bother filtering the excess information. 

Kitt patiently listened drawing up a logical outline with all the facts stuck into it. Then he stuck it up on his dashboard screens so that Michael could view it as well.

"Michael? What if we can not find her because Garthe is strategically moving her to places that we wouldn't bother to check?" Kitt prompted after a long period of silence had transpired.

The curly-haired agent sat up straight, the hairs on the back of his neck practically began to stand on end and his sky blue-eyes widened considerably. "Repeat what you just said, I think you might be on to something," Michael requested. His fingers clutched the pilot-styled steering-wheel tightly as he waited for Kitt to answer.

"What part do you wish to hear again, Michael?" Kitt innocently prompted. 

"The whole thing...." Michael answered.

" I said.... what if we can not find her because Garthe is strategically moving her to places we wouldn't bother to check. Why? I don't see how stating the obvious can be of any help to us now," Kitt remarked. 

Michael's head cocked to the side and he shouted, "that's it!" He turned the pilot's wheel sharply causing Kitt to swing about so sharply that his tires squealed.

"I think we're on to something!!! What if we can't find her because someone is alerting Garthe to our movements? Karr must be tracking us. I think he is the only one with that capability. If that is that case, then we can't find her because they keep moving her to places we've already checked and would be unlikely to search again! It is a despicably brilliant plan. I should have thought of this sooner. Suspects would try to pull this gag frequently when I was a cop." His lips pursed into a thoughtful frown as he considered how much time had passed between Bonnie's abduction until that very moment. He tried to push aside the thoughts of Garthe murdering his beloved wife and the child she carried.

Kitt's scanner rushed from side to side as he considered Michael's somewhat absurd theory. But after a few minutes, the sharp witted ai answered, "you know something? I think you might be right. The question is.... what mansion do we re-search?" 

Michael's brow quirked slightly as Kitt's inquiry sank in. An annoyed huff escaped his lips and he grumbled, "how about the one with the vaulted basement? If I were taking uncooperative hostages the vault would be the perfect place to keep them locked away." He was trying to get inside Garthe's mindset in order to outmaneuver the dangerous felon. 

"Michael, you don't think" Kitt started to prompt.

"Uhhh Kitt, don't say it. I don't want to think about it," he interjected having a feeling he knew what the car's next question would be. His muscles tensed and his eyes trained unwaveringly upon the road that stretched out in front of them like a red carpet. 

Kitt sped forward hoping that his ability to travel faster than other cars would buy them the time they needed to recover Bonnie before anything more happened to her.

Time seemed to drag on as the two made their second approach of the home. Night was casting slow shadows upon the land. The closer they got to the mansion, the more restless Michael became. He couldn't sit still. His fingers thundered across the Kitt's pilot wheel in a fit of almost fearful anticipation. 

"Michael? I can't help but wonder, if something happens to Bonnie.... what will become of me?" The smooth Trans-Am questioned. As far as he knew, Bonnie was the only mechanic with advanced enough knowledge to fix and maintain him.

Michael's face became rigid and his color paled slightly, the stress of the past few days was clearly wearing on his own young features. "Nothing is going to happen to Bonnie. I promise. I won't let her... or the baby..." he paused choking over his own emotions as he whispered the word "die." Then inhaling sharply he added, "and I promise I won't let anything happen to you either. So don't you worry your pretty little CPU chips and microprocessors."

Kitt forced his tires to keep spinning against the sandy roads as the sun sank further and further beneath the horizon. A still far off mansion appeared like a dot silhouetted against the slightly cloudy but otherwise beautifully painted Nevada skies. Michael glanced upwards and uttered a silent but heartfelt prayer, please don't let Garthe have killed my Bonnie and our baby. Please. I can't lose her like I lost Stevie.

Hot wheels came to a screeching halt, kicking up a mighty cloud of Nevada sands and throwing it into the gentle evening breeze. Unlike the other mansions this one seemed to be occupied for the lights were all on and music was loudly playing from its inner sanctums. Michael slowly slipped out of Kitt's protective cabin, he removed his gun from an expertly hidden holster and he took the time to load it.

Kitt took notice of this action and he called, "Michael?"

"Yes, Kitt?" The Flag agent breathed, between teeth, which were clenched so tightly that his mighty jaw muscles twitched.

"Are you anticipating trouble? Would you like me to contact the local authorities?" Kitt offered inquisitively. After all, his main programing was structured around the preservation of his partner's life. 

Michael's jaw momentarily relaxed as he let out a puff of air. He confessed, "yes Kitt, I am expecting trouble. No, I would not like you to contact the local authorities. If Bonnie is alive and being held here..... then I do not want the police to come blazing in with lights and sirens spooking Garthe and forcing his violent hand. Do you understand?" He questioned, hating the sound of his own miserable logic. He had seen enough hostage situations to know the moment the kidnapper became aware that he or she was about to go away for a long time, that was the very same moment their captives are slaughtered or disposed of. If it hadn't happened already. As quietly and as casually as he could he made his way up the mansion's front stairs. While he wasn't sure what he'd find behind the newly replaced doors, he was fairly certain he would not like it.

He bravely knocked on the door before pressing his back against the siding of the house on the blind-side of the entrance. He did this so that he could remain concealed from the immediate view. The former cop hoped that this would earn him the upper hand in the situation.

Heavy footsteps approached and the breath hitched in Michael's throat. Who was going to be on the other side of that door? Garthe? A child? Elizabeth? Bonnie? A soldier? He mentally prepared himself for anything and everything.


	29. Uncovered Clues and Desperation

Kitt, if he had breath, would have been holding it for his partner. His scanner's speed picked up as he noticed movement on the other side of the door. He wanted to shout a warning to Michael but was too afraid to blow the agent's cover. 

The door swung open and a buff looking guard stepped out unsuspectingly onto porch, Michael capitalized on the advantage. He quickly swung the guard around till his back was pressed unforgivingly against the wall. Sky blue-eyes flashed with a spark of violence, " I don't care who you are!!! I'm only going to ask once, where is my wife?!" He demanded. Michael made sure to show off his loaded gun as he pressed it towards the man's head. 

"I... I don't know what you are talking about..." sputtered the guard. He seemed to shake violently at Michael's uncharacteristically dark threat.

But Michael was so fed-up of having his chains jerked like he was some kind of pathetic dog. He wasn't going to play Garthe's little games any longer. "The mechanic.... you know... she's a brunette...very pretty.... and she's pregnant!! Her name is Bonnie Barstow-Knight! She is my wife and I want her back!" Michael seethingly shouted. 

This seemed to ignite some kind of realization in the guard's face but still he insisted that he didn't know her. Michael let out a fuming growl and shoved the babbling moron down the steps and out of his way. He then stormed into the mansion. Several guards rushed forward at his entry. Defensively Michael shouted, "Party is over! I want my wife and I'm not leaving without her!! So start talking!!!"

A few of the trained soldiers decided to flee but Michael seized the lone remaining guard by his collar. Gruffily he demanded, "start talking. Now!!!" 

The guard shuddered and quickly answered, "I... I think...... you.... you must be looking for..... the pretty...pre....pregnant woman ... Master... Garthe ma....married...."

"What?!!" Michael demanded, feeling his rage level soaring to new heights. His eyes flashed violently with rage as though lightning had streaked across his pools of stormy blue. 

"Master...Garthe.... he... he... forced.....some brunette.... I think....think her name ....was ...Bonnie... to marry him. She is pregnant with.....with his child or so he says. I....I'd be....be more than happy to....to....show you her....her clothes...." the talkative guard breathed. 

Michael could scarcely wrap his head around what he was being told. "Wait? Wh...what do you... you mean... her name.... was... Bonnie?" He felt chills rush up and down his spine as his fingers released their grasp upon the other man. Michael sucked in a breath as he thought of every unpleasant reason as to why the soldier used the past tense when referring to Bonnie. He even thought of death.

"Master Garthe..... he changed her name.....to.... Adeline...At least...I... I think... he did.... before... he... he took her away..." he confessed. 

Michael slipped the safety on the gun and returned it to the holster from which it came. Placing his hands on his hips, he tilted his head forward as he considered everything he had just been told. One thing continued to bother him... her clothes.... why had she been forced to change? He'd beat the pulp out of Garthe with his bare hands for humiliating his wife and stripping away her privacy and dignity. 

"You said... her clothes.... you've seen them....." he choked hoarsely. 

The soldier seemed genuinely kind unlike the others as he answered, "Yes Sir. Come this way...." 

Still Michael felt uneasy. His fingers remained wrapped around the grip of his gun just in case this soldier was trying to pull a fast one on him. Despite his fear of being conned, Michael had to find out if his Bonnie had been at the mansion and if her clothing had really been taken from her. Knots formed in his stomach as he thought of Garthe maliciously touching Bonnie... or the woman he called Adelina. The curly haired agent inwardly vowed that he'd make the menace pay for his behavior.... even if it meant he'd have to go above the law.

"She was held here for a while," he breathed bringing Michael to the hidden room. 

Michael let out a curse as he was introduced to the room with the barber chair with the straps on it. His sky-blue eyes widened in horror and he had to brace himself against the room's small pillar as he suddenly beheld all of Bonnie's clothes. He felt as though the very air had been punched out of him. This was not what he wanted to see. He bowed his head against the cold surface for a moment trying to regain his composure before he slowly moved over to the unfolded and wrinkled pile of clothes. Crouching down beside the dirtied mechanic's uniform a sob parted over his lips. A trembling hand extended and brushed over the familiar fabric. Michael scooped the clothes off of the floor, hiding her lacy unmentionables in the pant pockets of her uniform. He wasn't like Garthe. He'd never be caught flaunting his or Bonnie's very personal items around as though they were flags. In fact, knowing that other people had seen her undergarments made his face turn red. But he'd be absolutely sure no other eyes ogled her things now that they were in his custody. He held the neck of her uniform to his face. Her perfume, though faded, still lingered. 

"Tell....tell me... where is she now. Please..." Michael shakily commanded. He wasn't about to leave anything of Bonnie's behind at any of Garthe's mansions. 

"Mexico I suppose..." the soldier answered with a shrug of his shoulders. 

"Mexico?! That is it!! He is taking Bonnie out of the country?!!" Michael boomed. 

The lone guard, scared of the curly-haired-agents reaction, stepped back and nodded in reply. 

A thunderous rumble interrupted the conversation and Michael's com-link beeped loudly. "Michael, look out!" 

Michael tucked Bonnie's clothes into the breast of his coat and his head of dark curls snapped up just in time to see boots approaching. 

"Wh... what is going on?" Stammered the soldier who had been so very helpful to that point. 

Michael's eyes narrowed. He shoved the kind guard out of the way before dropping himself to the floor just in time to avoid the hail-storm of bullets that flew through the air.

"We have orders to detain or kill you, Knight," shouted an unpleasant and agitated guard. 

Quietly, Michael pulled his loaded gun back out of the holster. Keeping his chest flat against the hard ground he fired off several rounds. Several soldiers fell, the rest seemed to scatter. Save for two.... two brave or stupid guards. 

Pulling the trigger again, Michael realized he was out of bullets. Again he cursed but he quickly lifted himself to his feet and launched himself at the two remaining guards. His weight toppled one of the men and he struggled to pry the weapon free of the well-trained man's hands. The two rolled and wrestled for dominance, fists flew, fingers grappled for a stronghold, and growls lifted into the air. 

"Give up, Knight," hissed the heavier guard, as he pressed his knee into Michael's diaphragm. The curly-haired agent grunted at the unexpected application of pressure. 

Panting for air, the ex-cop replied, "n....ne...never...." He leaned forward, which unfortunately pushed the knee further into him. But as a reward for his efforts he was able to slam his fist directly into the man's jaw. The sheer force of the blow caused the pompous guard to crash to the floor.

Michael ambled back up to his feet, wiping at the fresh blood that had come from his split lip on his sleeve. The other violent guard moved to strangle Michael with the wire of the curling iron that the hair-dresser had left behind. But to Michael's surprise the helpful soldier foiled the attack by plowing the man into the wall with a deafening crash. The oversized-would-be-attacker slid to the ground unconscious. 

"Th...thanks," Michael panted, rubbing his sore diaphragm. 

"Don't stand aroun' thankin me. Go get your woman back!" the soldier puffed in return. More urgently he added, "get out of here before more guards come looking for their buddies." 

Michael cracked a split-second smile before shakily ambled up the steps. The fight had taken a great deal of energy out of him. But at least he knew where Garthe was headed and he had some idea of what his vile enemy had planned. 

When Michael finally emerged from the mansion, Kitt breathed, "Michael!! Thank goodness. Are you okay?"

Running his hand along the smooth black Tran's Am partner he replied, "yeah, pal. I'm just a bit sore. But we need to find the closest private airport and if any flights have taken off in the past four hours in the direction of Mexico." 

"Mexico?" Kitt questioned.

"Uh, yeah. Mexico. One of Garthe's soldiers told me Garthe is trying to smuggle Bonnie into Mexico under the name Adelina," Michael stammered as he started Kitt's engines and turbines up again.

"And we should trust this guy? Why? I mean he does work for Garthe," Kitt incredulously prompted.

Michael let out a haggard sigh before retorting, "he saved my life back there. He also showed me where Bonnie's clothing was. Would you do that if you planned to lie to an agent?" 

"I suppose not," Kitt uttered. Then again, most human rational and logic just didn't compute with him. Then with a swooshing of his scanners, Kitt announced, "Michael, there is a plane sitting on a runway ten minutes from here. The pilot is requesting clearance for a trip to Mexico."

"Let's go, Pal! SUPER PURSUIT MODE!" Michael shouted. He didn't care that it would be a risky move. He just had to get to the airport in four minutes flat. Time was of the essence. The two FLAG employees had to get there before the plane would take off. But would they get there in time to stop the plane? Would they be to late? Was the plane on the runway the one Garthe was using to get Bonnie out of the country? Or will this latest rescue attempt become part of another devastating set-back?


	30. The Escape to Mexico or Canceled Flight

Garthe smirked smugly at her protest and he fished around in his pocket for something. Finding it, a dangerous twinkle appeared in his eyes.

Bonnie, oblivious to his swift motions, was doing everything in her power to try and escape Karr's cabin. She even threw herself against his mechanical door to no avail. Bonnie should have known better, having worked on Karr's brother Kitt. But desperation took over and replaced all sense of logic that she seemed to possess. Garthe leaned over in his seat, seized her upper arm tightly between his fingers and before she could process what was happening a needle poked into her skin and the contents of the injection was released into her blood stream.

"There, there my wife. There is no need for alarm. You'll enjoy the flight," he gruffly breathed, before pressing a kiss to her cheek and slipping the needle out.

Stunned Bonnie feels her figure freeze in place. Had he honestly just drugged her in order to have his way? She should have known he'd do something like this. How does one get over being drugged? How long could she fight it's powers before the darkness would enclose around her?

Blue-green pools blinked rapidly a few times before they slowly vanished under heavy eyelids. Dark lashes sealed tightly against the upper crest of her cheek bones as the sedative seeped into every pore, molecule, and vein in her body. Darkness enveloped her yet again and this time she was powerless to fight back. Every muscle in her body grew limp and her struggling eventually faded into a serene stillness.

Garthe had no trouble at all lifting her out of the seat and carrying her up the steps of the private plane. He called out to KARR, "well see you in Mexico. Be careful not to attract Michael or the Foundation's attention."

"Yes Master," Karr obediently replied. Before making tracks away from the plane's taxi-way and heading back into the desert without a driver. His windows tinted so as to avoid arousing suspicion unwanted attention.

On the plane, Garthe tossed the slumbering mechanic haphazardly into a seat, as if she were nothing more than a bundle of dirty laundry or worse yet, trash. He tightly buckled her in before plopping down in a seat himself. He shouted to the pilot. "We're ready for take off when you are."

"Roger," the pilot answered before he turned to requesting clearances for the flight.

Steam lifted from the sun kissed blacktop below the plane. Lights of yellow twinkled and glittered down the tarmac; each one marking the slowly growing distance between Bonnie and her valiant co-workers. Wheels, hesitant at first begin to push into motion against the ground below causing the plane's entire frame to shudder with the anticipation of a lift-off. 

"Boss didn't yah tell your car to meet yah in Mexico?" The co-pilot questioned, peering back over his shoulders with a rather confused expression.

Garthe's brows furrowed sharply at the inquiry and his lips twisted with eternal disgust. "Don't be an idiot of course I told the car to....." His voice trails off and his face becomes a ghastly shade of white before quickly turning an infuriating shade of red. A muffled curse pushes out of his mouth as he grabs a gun.

Unbuckling himself he mutters, "you may be fast Michael Knight, but you won't be fast enough..." He moves his way up the center isle-way to where the pilots sat. 

"GET US IN THE AIR NOW OR I WILL KILL YOU, MYSELF!!" Garthe venomously and impatiently shouts at the pilots. "No I don't care if we haven't done enough of the runway..." He spat in retort to one of the men's protests.

In response the plane bounces.... once....twice... and violently lurches a third time, before wobbling and teetering into the air unsteadily. 

Garthe is thrown off balance and as a result he lands clumsily on top of Bonnie, who is still slumbering peacefully in her chair. Straightening his shirt and tie, the man clambers back over to his seat and unceremoniously plops himself down, the gun still in his hands. 

His piercing and icy blue hues lock on the window, daring Michael and KITT to offer a challenge to his latest of moves. To Garthe it was like a fascinating game of chess... and the way he figured it he was still ten steps ahead. But was he really? Or are those the thoughts of a truly delusional man?


	31. Victory Or Defeat

"Michael?" Kitt broke the silence for the first time in the span of a few tense minutes.

White knuckles remained tightly fixed upon the steering yoke but Michael's stern gaze softened slightly as his blue eyes find the voice modulator. "Y...Yes, Kitt?" He softly sputters, half fearing the worst. That this plane was not carrying the precious cargo that he sought. Or worse that it had the dead bodies of Bonnie and her baby upon it.

Michael audibly shuddered at the thought that almost every woman he as fallen in love with seem to share Stevie's luck. He wouldn't know what to do if his beloved Bonnie shared Stevie's unfortunate fate. But the loss of Bonnie would be ten times more severe than losing Stevie for Bonnie was his nearly constant companion, his greatest friend, his co-worker, and in many ways his compass. He knew not how to function without her. And Michael simply could not bare to think that she would die carrying his enemies child after all that she had suffered. Besides, Kitt needed her. Without her highly skilled mechanical and technical skills he would, no doubt end up a twisted hunk of useless metal. The poodle-permed Flag agent did his best to dismiss these troubling thoughts, for they would achieve absolutely nothing; save for grieving his already heavily burdened soul. 

"A scan seems to indicate a pregnant woman in one of the seats on the plane. She fits Bonnie's physical height, weight, and features. The baby seems fine...." Kitt reports, his scanner swooshing rapidly from side to side. "A male passenger fitting Garthe's build is also on the plane... as well as two others." 

It had to be the plane carrying their Bonnie. Michael lets out a sigh, his defensively held shoulders lower slightly with a sense of relief. But that does not deflect nor distract him from his intended course of action; the pursuit of the aircraft down the runway. He knows he has to get to her before the plane reaches into the sky and she vanishes on him again.

The plane's tires are quick, but was Super Pursuit Mode quicker? That question practically consumed the FLAG agent's mind. Michael sure hoped the answer would be yes. His blue eyes burned with fierce determination, which was soon replaced by an expression of intense shock and horror. Michael's locked jaw drops open as he witnessed the plane make a terribly clumsy and frantic attempt to get into the air. It seemed from his vantage point on the ground that the pilots had little to no experience flying.

"Kitt use the micro-wave jammers!" Michael shouts, when he had recovered slightly. He feels a sense of genuine panic bristling down his spine. He needs to get Bonnie out of that maddeningly under qualified air-craft and he needs to do it yesterday. The FLAG agent could not let her slip away without presenting his best fight.

"Michael? Doing so would possibly cause the craft to lose control and crash. Given Bonnie and the plane's current state I don't feel that is the best course of action," Kitt dejectedly remarks.

Upon further surveying the troubled air-craft, Michael realized that what Kitt said was true. A snarl escapes the curly-haired driver and both of his hands slam into the steering yoke. They had been so close to getting her back. They had been mere yards away. So very close and now.... now all he could do was watch as she is once more taken away from him. Michael refused to risk her life further, even if it meant that he had to delay in putting an end to this game of cat and mouse that Garthe was playing. In that moment he would have liked nothing more than to take Garthe out in the most savage manner possible, the more the menace suffered the better. He had put the Foundation through Hell one too many times. 

"I'm sorry, Michael...." Kitt softly remarks.

"Yeah... me too, Pal. Me too..." Michael murmurs, broodingly running his thick fingers through his disheveled curls.

"Let's button up the hatches and call Devon. Maybe he'll know what do do," Michael suggests. His tone heavily bruised just as his pride and ego were with this, additional terrible defeat.

"Good thinking Michael...." Kitt returned. 

The rapidly spinning tires came to a sudden stop and the fancy equipment allowing Kitt to achieve great speeds slowly fold back into the Trans Am's normal black shell.

A silent prayer lifts as Michael's blue eyes remain transfixed on the limping and vanishing plane. He begrudgingly wishes that he was the one being held hostage and not his Bonnie. He could take everything Garthe could dish out and he knew that he had deserved the punishment more than Bonnie ever would. A thousand regrets flood through his mind. If only he had done this.... or if only he had done that. None more so than the thought of: if only he hadn't been detained by the guards so long at the mansion maybe, just maybe, he would have been able to prevent Bonnie's transfer into the plane. But it was too late to change any of that. He had to think on his toes, pull the Foundations resources if he could in an effort to put an end to this seemingly endless nightmare. But would all of their efforts be enough? Or had Garthe truly won this battle?


	32. Is It Too Early For A Victory Celebration?

A cruel smile etches its way upon Garthe's face, acknowledging his foes defeat as he observes the sleek black Trans-am's special features being retracted and the distance increasing between them. His icy hues melted with, what could, for a moment be considered the golden warmth of genuine delight. Or perhaps, it only appeared so, thanks to the caress of the sunlight pouring in through the window from which, he was peering. His rigid and prepared to fight stance slowly relaxed into one of a carefree passenger, traveling to a welcoming destination. 

When he was satisfied that Michael had given up, Garthe re-concealed the gun and took to studying Bonnie as she slept. He found a strange fascination with watching her chest rise and fall with every inhale and exhale. It was a charming sight compared to that of stone walls and scurrying rats of an African Prison. He fondly noted how the tendrils of her hair, a brown so deep it could be considered the shade of charcoal, gracefully and rather delicately fell around her shoulders. His gaze then falls to her stomach and was soon followed by one of his large hands. 

He had barely known his wealthy father. What he remembered of the man he greatly despised. But in some extremely humane way, even Garthe could desire to be a father... one greater and far more powerful than his own. He vowed to himself that for his honor and his son, he'd destroy the Foundation For Law and Government once and for all. If he had to, he'd brain wash his Bonnie... correction.... his Adelina until she could no longer remember the pitiful organization or her time spent toiling away for it. The Foundation's existence was naught but a stain upon his every waking and conscious moment. 

The flight seemed to be going well until, an unexpected thunderstorm practically tossed the private plane into a severe bout of turbulence. The metallic craft shivered and shuddered with such a violence that things were falling from compartment shelves.

Bonnie let out a subconscious groan as something hit her. Her stance shifted in response to the pain but then the muscles returned to a relaxed state. 

Garthe flinched, letting out an unbridled string of curses before shouting various threats to his men. 

Upon examining the storm the pilots realized that the flight that was supposed to take six hours and forty some minutes was going to take a good deal longer. The endless azure skies had rather abruptly turned a hideous shade of green and black, the furious winds making it nearly impossible for the pilots to keep the small plane properly positioned in the sky. 

"Boss? We should make an emergency landing..." the bravest of the pilots stated. His grey eyes scarcely leaving the vast windshield in front of him for if he ventured to do so, he'd end up crashing the plane. 

"NO! We have to make it to Mexico.... and we have to do it today," he growled unforgivingly. "I don't care if we have to practically crash. Find a way to do it! Or I will...." He shouts, pausing for a moment to think of a threat great enough to ensure their absolute compliance with his every order and whim. "Or I will scalp you and then toss you from this plane without a parachute!"

That threat seemed to inspire the pilots to seek out other solutions to their current precarious predicament. A hushed flurry of conspiratorial whispers escaping both of them as they diligently worked to preserve the craft and all of its occupant, namely for the reason of self preservation. Sweat pooled feverishly upon their brows as they battled the relentless winds for control of the craft. 

A crack of thunder encompassed the craft and a flash of burning white-hot silver and blue light burst around them. For a moment the airplane's engine cut, leaving the cabin to fill with a heart stopping silence. The eerie absence of sound was soon replaced with a gut-twisting plunging sound, the kind of noise heavy objects make when they start to plunge out of the sky at a sickening rate of speed. 

"Come on.... come on..." the lead pilot grumbled, pulling at the yoke in an attempt to encourage it to ascend again. Through his co-pilots help and a series of rapid movements the engine coughed and sputtered to life, the craft returning to a semi-normal position and altitude. Both of the pilots let out pleased sighs of relief, which much to their dismay was not reciprocated by their boss. 

Instead Garthe fumes, "what the heck was that? ARE YOU TRYING TO GET US ALL KILLED?" 

Two sheepish and startled voices reply, "no master..."

In all of the chaos the curly haired man had forgotten about Bonnie until he heard a groan and his gaze turned to her in time to see the mechanic's hand spread across her stomach. 

Garthe pinches the bridge of his nose. He made a mental note to speak to his mother about hiring people who were not complete bumbling morons when next he saw her. His other hand reached for a vile of the sedative for Garthe feared that Bonnie had been jarred awake by the plane's alarming plight. But seconds later that thought was dismissed as he realized that her eyes did not open. His hand moved to rest over hers, not so much to comfort her... but to make sure the child was not indicating any signs of distress. 

"W....we ha...have to fly a bit out of t...the way to avoid the s...storm system that nearly brought us down, sir," one of the pilots shakily sputtered. 

To both men's surprise Garthe hissed lowly, "very well then. But if I do not make it to the airport in Mexico by nightfall it will be both of your pathetic lives." 

A period of time went by where everything inside of the private plane was at peace, as if it were nothing more than a vessel for transporting bored congressmen from one meeting to the next and not part of a hostage situation. That is until Bonnie started struggling in her seat, fighting some unseen or half imagined enemy. Garthe watched in amusement for a good period of time before tiring of it, pulling her into his lap, and cocooning his arm tightly around her wriggling frame. His rough lips and coarse stubble came to rest against the warm crook of her neck and the scoop of her shoulder. 

But would all remain at peace for long?


	33. Landings & New Beginnings or Not?

Hours passed, his arms remained steadfastly tight around the mechanic and her rounded stomach. This was supposed to be the happiest time of his life and yet, the Foundation was still making his life a nightmare. They would pay even if it would be the last thing he had to do. The rest of the flight seemed to pass uneventfully. His thoughts traversed many realms, plotting and planning his next ten steps. In doing so, he hoped to stay ten steps ahead of Michael and the others. 

Before long, the softly shuddering palms became visible from from the windows. It was a great contrast to the putrid color of green, black, and then the endless blue and white. The land of his future dwelling comes into view the closer the plane gets to the runway, the more details he can discern from between the realms of vibrant light. 

A smile etched across the criminal's face when Bonnie begins to awaken from the forced slumber. "Welcome home," he murmured, into Bonnie's ear. 

Turquoise hues blink back endless confusion as long slender limbs are stretched out. She was on plane? At first, she feels a twinge of uncontrollable panic seeping through her veins. Where were they? When had they gotten there? Mexico? Was it Mexico? Her slow mind begins to recall small details, fragments of an almost unintelligible puzzle. Then it hits her like a sledge hammer. Garthe was going to get away with kidnapping her and her child!! Her passport was long abandoned in the states. That meant she'd be unable to return home. The home and the people that Bonnie's heart yearned for. Its too late for her to fight it, her hands were bound. Forever clad in unbendable steel. 

"Let go of me," she whispers. The exhaustion still present in the lull of her voice. 

The wheel meets the runway with a jarring force and a fierce laugh escapes him. Would she ever relax into his arms? He can't help but wonder. Garthe only tightens his grasp on her. "Why would I do something like that?" He muses aloud. "You are a danger to not only me and my men, but to yourself and your child. I must protect you from yourself." 

Since when did Garthe remotely care about me and the baby? Bonnie muses internally. A huff is expelled from her parted but furious lips. She realized with harsh clarity that there was nothing she could really do but play along with his pretense of protection. 

There is a long dark limo and what appears to be a black-topped Trans AM at the end of the runway. Both of which, came into view as the plane turned a corner. Again Bonnie feels her heart drop into the soles of her shoes for she knows who rides in a dark limo and that the Trans Am, is surely none other than KARR. 

Garthe smirks smugly, his own eyes catching up the sight a few seconds after Bonnie's had. "Ah, it appears my mother has come to wish us both well in our new life and to get to know her grandson." For him it was a pleasant surprise. An impromptu meeting he would most certainly indulge. 

"He isn't even born yet," Bonnie hissed sharply. She hates that he already professes Elizabeth to be the child's grandmother, even if it was true. Elizabeth was her son's biological grandmother. Yet, Bonnie wanted her son to have nothing to do with the corrupting influence of the criminally minded heiress.

The dark-curly haired criminal retorts, "that doesn't matter. It will only be a matter of months before they are introduced in person." His charcoal grey and blue eyes seem to twinkle with a well designed glee. One that made the mechanic's heart skip a few beats. 

What would become of her now? Bonnie is almost confident that this meant trouble. If anyone hated F.L.A.G. more than Garthe, it was his startlingly wealthy mother, Elizabeth Knight, and K.A.R.R. Even if she could manage to wrestle away from Garthe's grasp, she would be stopped by Elizabeth, her guards, and or KARR. Bonnie was still struggling to remain fully conscious and alert, the last tendrils of sleep refusing to relinquish its powerful grasp upon her. Resistance was futile and she knew it. Or was Bonnie wrong? Was there still a way out? 

((to be continued and further edited. A big thank you to everyone who has stayed up to date with this story. And an even larger thank you, for those who have asked me to continue it.))


End file.
